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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26318818">Please Don't See Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_solitary_marshmallow/pseuds/a_solitary_marshmallow'>a_solitary_marshmallow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Werewolf Stan AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gravity Falls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Divergence - A Tale of Two Stans, Werewolf Stan Pines, Werewolves, but its mythological so its fine, ewwwwwww, kinda disgusted that I have to clarify that, please don't tag as ship i cannot express this clearly enough, rated teen because BOY is there some violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:08:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26318818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_solitary_marshmallow/pseuds/a_solitary_marshmallow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Luck is on Ford's side - he managed to save and capture a strange, wolf-like creature for his studies. Is it a regular wolf affected somehow by Gravity Fall's weirdness? Is it a whole new species? And why is it not trying to attack him like every other creature he'd managed to capture? His study of Gravity Falls' natural weirdness has hit a roadblock, but now he has a new project to work on.</p><p>Alternatively, Stan has had a shitty few years since being bitten and turned into a werewolf, and now he has to deal with his nerdy scientist brother too. What could go wrong?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ford Pines &amp; Stan Pines</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Werewolf Stan AU [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>379</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819663">The Natural Law of Weirdness Magnetism</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchaeologist/pseuds/TheArchaeologist">TheArchaeologist</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In my short career of writing fanfiction, I've learned that it's good to play to your strengths - even if the only thing you're good at is making AUs of other people's AUs! This is inspired by TheArchaeologist's werewolf Stan fic, and also a bit by Detectivejigsaw's Of Mutts and Men.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ugh. Stan’s whole body felt like lead. The thin layer of straw beneath him was tickling his nose and poking in places he <em>really</em> didn’t like being poked, but he didn’t care enough to move. At least he had space to lay down. He’d spent enough nights crammed into his car, unable to stretch out or move his cramped legs, to appreciate having some actual <em>space</em>. Even if that space was covered in annoying straw.</p><p>He let out a heavy sigh and the room suddenly got quieter – he hadn’t noticed the soft, steady scraping of a pen on paper until it paused, and now his ears pricked up to search for it again. (Ears? He hadn’t slept while Shifted in ages). The scraping continued a moment later.</p><p>For a moment Stan was transported back to his teenaged years – flopping in his bed, exhausted after a tough boxing match, and being lulled to sleep by the sound of Ford quietly writing into all hours of the night. Except back then Stan wasn’t in the form of an oversized canine, and he’d been well-fed, and it was Ford there instead of some stranger, and Stan could actually remember where he was and how he’d gotten there-</p><p>Wait.</p><p>Stan cracked open one, a few motes of dust filling his vision before he blinked and they cleared, allowing him to see the stupid hay right next to his face. Hay – why was there hay? Where <em>was</em> he?</p><p>He forced his groggy head up to take stock of his surroundings – iron bars every which way. A cage. He was in a <em>cage</em>. It was in the middle of what looked like a dusty shed, smaller cages and other tools hanging on the walls and oh god he <em>hoped</em> they weren’t torture devices. Who would want to torture a wolf anyway? Evening, or maybe early-morning, light streamed through a high window and lit up a small square of floor, where a person was sitting cross-legged a safe distance from the cage.</p><p>Person – person, cage, <em>danger</em>. A low growl rumbled through Stan’s chest and he bared his teeth in a warning. The guy had better not get any closer, or he would be down an arm. And maybe a throat.</p><p>The person froze at his growl and looked up from writing in some book, glasses flashing in the weak sunlight and making Stan flinch – before he recognised the face behind them and his growl petered off into stunned silence.</p><p>Holy <em>shit</em>. Ford?</p><p>It couldn’t be Ford, but – but it <em>had</em> to be, with that undisguised curiosity written across his face, unruly brown curls, and – yep, that cinched it – the six-fingered hand holding his pen.</p><p><em>Ford</em> was there, and <em>Ford</em> was staring at him, and Stan was still in wolf form in this <em>stupid</em> cage. He couldn’t help but stare back. It had been years since he’d seen his brother. Ford was less twiggy than he used to be. His shoulders had filled out and his jaw was squarer than it used to be.</p><p>Well, Stan reasoned, it had been… what, seven years? They had both changed. Some more than others.</p><p>“Morning.” Ford’s voice broke them out of their unintentional staring match. He recommenced writing in his journal – writing or sketching, Stan had no idea. “I suppose you’re a bit sore, which is understandable after the night you had. You’re lucky I convinced Dan not to beat you to death.”</p><p>Who the heck was Dan? And why was Ford talking to a wolf? Fuckin’ nerd. Stan opened his mouth to ask some of the questions burning on his tongue, but they came out as a doggish huff. Oh right, the whole wolf situation.</p><p>Stan carefully rose, testing out his bruised and battered body. He ached all over but he didn’t think anything was broken. Thanks, luck, for not totally screwing him over. His left shoulder, in particular, was burning – he must have strained something. Now Stan could vaguely remember the events of yesterday; mostly, his car breaking down in the middle of nowhere. He’d been starving, he had to eat <em>something</em>, had to hunt, so he’d Shifted and gone in search of prey. He’d hurt his shoulder making a sharp turn while trying to catch a deer.</p><p>He kept chasing it until he’d gotten kicked, ended up somewhere that wasn’t the forest – a barn house maybe, but all he could focus on was the tiny animal in the front yard. That tiny, stupid dog. It had been yapping at him furiously like it could take him in a fight and he’d been <em>so hungry</em>.</p><p>And then there was yelling, and steel-capped boots and a heavy stick (holy shit was that a <em>shovel)</em> and he was too weak to put up much of a fight.</p><p>Stan’s lip curled in disgust. He hadn’t even managed to take a bite out of that stupid Chihuahua. There was the good old Stanley Pines luck rearing its head again. Well, he wasn’t dead yet. He had that going for him.</p><p>Ford was glancing up at him occasionally with calculating eyes. Stan sighed and settled back onto the floor. He didn’t have the energy to force a Shift right now, and there was no use scaring the nerd. Ford blinked at him before mumbling to himself, pen never stilling.</p><p>“Hmm. I thought you would have been more… concerned, to be in captivity. Perhaps you’ve had contact with humans before. Of course, it’s illegal to keep wolves as pets, but this <em>is </em>Gravity Falls.”</p><p>Gravity what-now?</p><p>“And you’re certainly not an ordinary wolf.” Ford continued thoughtfully. “Far too large, and your proportions are off. I wonder if you’ve been affected by the natural weirdness of Gravity Falls? The size-changing crystals may have played a role in… hmm…” He went back to scribbling in his book.</p><p>Great. Now Stan was just another science experiment. The sooner he could Shift and tell Ford who he was, the sooner…</p><p>What? The sooner Ford could kick him out? Stan had ruined his entire future, there was no way Ford would be happy to see him.</p><p>In a twisted way, Stan might be safer as an object of study rather than a potential enemy. Besides, he didn’t think he could face Ford’s ire. And if there was a chance Ford would find out who he was and keep him trapped anyway… a specimen to study… no, he wouldn’t take that risk.</p><p>Stan would just have to escape when the chance presented itself. Until then, he could play the part of the wolf.</p><p>A nice wolf, obviously – no fucking way was he gonna attack his own brother. No matter how much of a dipshit the guy was being.</p><p>Mind made up, Stan went back to napping. Or pretending to nap, because he couldn’t exactly relax with Ford’s eyes constantly on him. He must have drifted off at some point though because he awoke with a start at a very close <em>scrape</em>. Immediately Stan’s fur stood on end.</p><p>Ford had slid something into the cage. Stan was resolved not to take any handouts until the scent of raw meat hit his nose and he forgot that he was supposed to be a human.</p><p>He snapped up the slab of meat in slavering jaws, shivering when the savoury-salty-metallic-<em>food</em> taste of blood burst across his tongue. He hadn’t eaten in <em>so long</em>.</p><p>All too soon the food was gone. Stan licked his chops and couldn’t hold back a pitiful whine.</p><p>“Still hungry?” Ford called from across the shed, where he was digging in a fridge Stan had missed before. “No wonder; I can see your ribs from here. You’ll have to wait for me to get more though.”</p><p>Ugh, Ford was taking so <em>long</em>. Stan nudged the food bowl with his nose, pushing it out of the cage with the hope that getting the dish back would speed things up. Ford sent him a weird look but Stan didn’t care as long as he got more food.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The creature was certainly not an ordinary wolf.</p><p>It didn’t take an expert eye to see, either. Its – his? ­– shaggy fur was matted and clumped, a far cry from the sleek coats Ford had seen in the wolves native to Oregon. Its claws were a little too long, its fangs a little too jagged, its form too barrel-chested and shoulders too hunched and hulking – and the creature itself was much larger than any wolf Ford had seen. When standing, its back might reach as high as his waist. Ford was sure that the only reason Dan had managed to subdue it was the pitiful state it was currently in. At peak health it would surely be a formidable beast.</p><p>And there was something intelligent in the gleam of those amber-yellow eyes. Something… considering.</p><p>However, the creature was was much more well-behaved than the usual specimens Ford managed to obtain. It lay quietly in its cage, occasionally getting up to stretch before lying back down. After the first incident it made no attempt to growl at, attack or otherwise threaten him. It had even returned the food dish every time he fed it.</p><p>Ford couldn’t make any conclusions until he had more evidence, but the data he currently had strongly suggested that the creature had once been domesticated. An escaped pet, perhaps? He decided to test his hypothesis.</p><p>Once Ford finished his sketch he stood by the cage, treats in his pocket (borrowed from Dan). The wolf cracked open one eye to watch him warily, as it had been doing when Ford moved.</p><p>Hmm, where to start… probably with the more common commands. If the wolf had been domesticated it would probably have been taught some basic commands at the least. Ford waited until both its eyes were on him before lifting a hand and saying clearly, “Sit.”</p><p>The wolf continued to look at him.</p><p>“Sit.” Ford tried again, with no luck. The wolf was paying attention to him but it made no attempt to follow his orders. He sighed. “Come on, work with me here.”</p><p>The wolf blinked slowly.</p><p>Ford reached into his pocket and pulled a treat out of his pocket, rolling it in his palm. The wolf’s gaze seemed to have a lot more weight behind it now. The creature seemed to be considering.</p><p>“Sit.” Ford said again and, with, a huff, the wolf picked itself up off the floor and sat on its haunches.</p><p>Ford gaped.</p><p>“You actually know the command. Oh gosh, you <em>must </em>be domesticated! I wonder how many of your kind there are. A whole new species of wolf? Wolf-mutt? What other commands do you know? Do you lay down too? Lay down!”</p><p>The wolf shot him an eerily intelligent look – a look that clearly said ‘you want me to cooperate, you’d better pay up’. Ford sighed and tossed the treat into the cage, where the wolf attempted to catch it, only to have it bounce off its snout and roll out of the cage again.</p><p>Ford picked it up and tried again. This time the wolf snapped it out of the air with an audible <em>clack</em> of teeth. Sated, the creature settled back onto its belly.</p><p>“Is… is that you obeying the previous command? Or just lying down?”</p><p>It put its head down and closed his eyes, so Ford assumed it was the latter. He sat back and picked up his journal, hands buzzing with excitement. So his initial hypothesis had been correct; the creature had belonged to <em>someone</em>. It evidently hadn’t been cared for for a long time though, given its current state. Was it a pet that escaped? But if it had run away from its owners, Ford doubted it would be listening to his commands – however reluctantly – as it was doing now.</p><p>A loyal pet, then, but one that had not been taken care of for a while. Had it belonged to one of Gravity Falls’ supernatural inhabitants? That would explain its… abnormalities.</p><p>A sudden thought hit Ford suddenly, and he squeezed his pen tight.</p><p>“I wonder… there are countless incidents of people adopting young pets, only to abandon them when they get bigger or… odder. Are you one of those?”</p><p>The animal’s ear twitched. Apart from that, it gave no sign that it was listening. Ford bit his lip.</p><p>“Maybe that’s why you have no home. You were good, and they still tossed you away because you weren’t normal.”</p><p>Now the wolf lifted its eyelids to gaze at him; a heavy, thoughtful stare. Ford sighed and chewed on the end of his pen.</p><p>“Well, wherever you come from, I can’t keep calling you ‘wolf’. You need a name. I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”</p><p>The wolf yawned and stretched.</p><p>“I thought not. Let’s see.” Ford hummed to himself. “Something’s wolf-like? Lupus? Lupin? No, that’s silly.” The wolf was watching him judgmentally and Ford frowned. “I don’t see you offering anything better. Well… you are quite the mystery – an enigma, if you will. But that’s a bit too obvious, isn’t it? Not a very good name.”</p><p>The wolf snorted. Ford ignored it.</p><p>“A… a mystery, a puzzle, a… rebus!” He jumped up excitedly. “A rebus! It’s a puzzle! And it sounds similar to Remus, a figure from Roman mythology who was said to have been nursed by a wolf. See, it has <em>layers</em>!” He pointed out gleefully to the wolf, who did not react, because it was a wolf.</p><p>Ford deflated.</p><p>“Maybe Fiddleford is right and I should start talking to other people.” But… “I don’t have time right now, I have research to do! I’ll talk to people next week.”</p><p>The newly christened Rebus closed his eyes again, apparently content to ignore Ford’s presence when there wasn’t food or shouting involved. That was all right. Ford had plenty of time to win his trust! With the recent roadblock he’d hit in his studies Ford had been planning to hike to the caves in the nearby mountains, to see if they held any clues or answers. But he supposed that could wait until he figured out this new mystery.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For Stan the days settled into a rhythm – Ford would come sometime in the morning to bring him breakfast, settle down and take a few notes or something in that ever-present book of his. Then he’d be off doing whatever he did all day, stopping off in the evening to feed him again. The nerd hadn’t tried to approach him yet, which Stan was thankful for. On the one hand, it had been ages since someone touched him without the intent to cause grievous bodily harm. On the other, Stan didn’t <em>trust</em> him.</p><p>Sure, he trusted Ford more than any random stranger, but he was still a scientist. A scientist who had no idea who and what Stan was. Which meant he was a threat.</p><p>It was hard to remember that he was a threat when Ford started snoring. The nerd had nodded off while propped up against the wall, a biology textbook forgotten in his lap. Stan flicked his ears to listen to his breathing – the guy was dead asleep.</p><p>Which gave him a window of opportunity. He’d tried Shifting during the night and unlocking the cage but he had nothing to pick the lock with, and the bolt was way too solid for him to break in either form. But Ford had to have the key, right? Maybe in his pocket? His coat had a bunch of ‘em. If Stan could just get it while he was off guard…</p><p>He Shifted, wincing at the pop of bones reshaping, but luckily Ford didn’t stir. Stan took a slow, careful breath as the last of the Shift faded away and he was kneeling on the floor of the cage, still in his filthy hoodie and jeans. Ford snored lightly.</p><p><em>Okay. You got this.</em> Stan crawled up to the edge of the cage and stuck his arm through, wincing as cold metal pressed against his ribs. His fingers were still inches away from the edge of Ford’s weird coat. He cursed silently and crushed himself against the bars, straining for those extra few inches. His fingertip just brushed the coat. Stan held his breath and tugged it just a tiny bit, bringing a pocket close enough for him to reach into it.</p><p><em>Come on, key. </em>No such luck. Just spare change, an extra pen, nothing useful.</p><p>Stan frowned, running a quick mental calculation. He could count… maybe three other pockets. There was a pretty big chance that the key would be in one of those. The only issue was if he could get at them without Ford waking up.</p><p>A rustle sounded outside, making Stan jump and bang his head on the metal bars with a tiny <em>clunk</em>. He cursed and snatched his hand back as Ford stirred and mumbled something in his sleep.</p><p><em>Shit, shit, shit, abort!</em> Stan forced a Shift faster than he ever had in his life – his vision blurred and when it cleared, he was back in wolf form. Ford merely stilled again and went back to snoring.</p><p>Well. That could have gone better.</p><p>There were more sounds outside, louder with his sharper hearing. The pattering of tiny footsteps, whispering, clanking. What the heck?</p><p>A shadow flickered at the shed door.</p><p><em>Oh, fuck no</em>. Stan bared his teeth and unleashed a savage bark that made Ford jerk upright and the shadow disappear with a squeal. Yeah, it had better run. No one sneaks up on Stan’s sleeping brother but <em>him</em>!</p><p>“Rebus, what on earth!” Ford gasped. Stan elected to ignore him in favour of staring at the doorway and growling. The moment Ford also heard the skittering sounds he jumped to his feet. “Oh – not again!”</p><p>He bolted outside, leaving Stan alone and very antsy. He barked after his retreating brother.</p><p>
  <em>Hey! Don’t leave me here! The fuck are those things? Are they gonna hurt ya? FORD!</em>
</p><p>Stan paced and snarled to himself while the whispers outside were broken up by banging and small shrieks. The pitter-patter of a crowd of tiny feet went on to pitter-patter hurriedly past the shed, and eventually disappeared into the distance.</p><p>Familiar footsteps. Stan scanned Ford for injuries as his brother clumped inside, looking harried and red in the face with a broom in one hand and a… tiny red hat in the other? Aaand his brother was mumbling about gnomes. Well, Stan was a werewolf, at this point he’d given up trying to understand shit. Ford wasn’t hurt, that was all he cared about.</p><p>“-I swear, how do they know when I’m out of the house? Have they been watching me? Scratch that, they’re always watching. You’d think Jeff would know not to try and steal a <em>microwave</em>, though.” Ford propped the broom against the wall and turned to Stan with a considering look. “Quite an effective alarm system.”</p><p>The great and mighty wolf, demoted to a guard dog. Stan had had worse. He huffed and stretched, forcing his bristling fur to lay flat again in case Ford thought he was being aggressive and like… pepper-sprayed him or something.</p><p>Ford’s footsteps didn’t fade, as he’d thought they would. They actually got… closer? Stan looked up sharply to see his brother crouching by the cage, hand extended through the bars with a treat balanced on his palm.</p><p>…was he serious?</p><p>Yep, he was serious. Stan’s brother, everyone, putting his arm in a cage for a deadly creature to maul. Ford was <em>so</em> lucky this was Stan and not some <em>random</em> deadly creature. How was the idiot still <em>alive</em>?</p><p>“Come on, Rebus.” Ford called softly, like he was some spooked puppy and not a monster with jagged fangs and razor-sharp claws. “Thank you for warning me. I think that deserves a reward. I know you want the treat, you love these things.” Stan <em>did </em>love those things. They were demeaning but delicious. “Come on, don’t you trust me?”</p><p>No, and Ford really shouldn’t trust him either. Stan huffed out a sigh and padded a step closer, waiting for Ford to get a clue and pull his arm to safety. He didn’t. In fact, he brightened.</p><p>“That’s it! See, what I’m doing here is called classical conditioning. If you associate my presence with treats then you’ll eventually start associating me with positives, thus building up a rapport of trust! Of course that wouldn’t work if you knew what I was trying to do, but… well. Wolf and all. Then again it would be much easier if you did speak English, moral dilemmas aside.”</p><p>The idiot was lucky Stan loved him. He carefully took the small beef-flavored square just to shut Ford up. And – well, okay, maybe just a little because Ford beamed when his gesture was accepted.</p><p>Then Ford tried to pet him, which Stan firmly shut down with flattened ears and a warning growl, because <em>fuck </em>that. Ford snatched his hand back.</p><p>“I… I probably shouldn’t have done that, should I?”</p><p>Stan gave him the stink eye. <em>No, you shouldn’t have.</em></p><p>“Still! This is major progress. Now where did I put my notes, I was in the middle of… there they are! Where was I? Oh, yes, how to get you on a set of scales…”</p><p>Ford went bustling back to his work and Stan huffed out a long-suffering sigh. Trust his brother to completely forget his own safety in favour of some scientific discovery. As kids Ford had been so excited to study whatever weird thing they found that he sometimes forgot to run, and Stanley would have to drag him away from the monster or huge wave or whatever the nerd was ‘oohing’ over.</p><p>Then again, this might work to his advantage. If Ford trusted him, he might let Stan out of the cage and make escape <em>way</em> easier. And as a bonus it might teach him a lesson about trusting dangerous animals in the future.</p><p>Yeah, okay. See, Ford wasn’t the only one who could make plans! Soon he would be outta here and his brother would be none the wiser.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ford was late.</p><p>Stan paced, unable to quell the prickling of anxiety in his chest. Ford was <em>late</em> and it was starting to get dark and he hadn’t come back in the afternoon like he had the past four days Stan had been trapped there. He strained his ears but the only sounds he could catch were the usual foresty noises, squirrels and shit.</p><p>Yeah, Ford was a grown man who could handle himself, and yeah, he technically was keeping Stan locked up, but the guy didn’t <em>know </em>it and goddammit, Stan was <em>allowed</em> to be worried about his twin!</p><p>He continued to pace and growl to himself as the shadows got longer and the air began to chill. In fact, Stan was still fretting when the crashing in the trees became audible. His fur stood on end and he rumbled out a low growl. Alright, this wasn’t normal. Who the <em>fuck</em> was messing with his brother?</p><p>Stan got his answer soon enough, when he picked up Ford’s gasping breaths and panicked footsteps and the pounding and rumbling of something much larger on his tail. Were those <em>wing beats?</em> And yelling and smashing glass. He barked his lungs out, cursing this <em>stupid</em> cage that kept him from helping his brother. The air smelled like blood and feathers, fear and sweat.</p><p>Something thudded into the side of the shed. There was scrabbling at the door and then – oh thank <em>god </em>– Ford stumbled inside and slammed it shut after him, wincing as something heavy pounded on the other side. Stan paced anxiously.</p><p>
  <em>What is it, bro? What’s wrong?</em>
</p><p>“I will very much regret this.” Ford gasped to himself, staggering further into the room with – wait, what was that gleaming in his hand? He was at the cage. There was metal scraping and a <em>click</em> that made Stan stiffen.</p><p>Ford paused to catch his breath, clutching the key in one hand and casting a fearful look over his shoulder at the shuddering shed door. The cage creaked. Unlocked. When Stan nosed it hesitantly it swung open before him. Ford winced and took a step back, gaze darting nervously between Stan and the commotion at the door.</p><p>“Err… yep. I already regret this.”</p><p>The door started to splinter as a head forced its way inside, and Stan didn’t hesitate before lunging forward and snapping a mouthful of whatever was trying to hurt his brother.</p><p><em>Fuckin finally</em>. It had been forever since he had a good fight.</p><p> </p><p>Unlocking Rebus’s cage had been a last-resort sort of thing. Not in the plan, but a lot of things hadn’t gone to plan today. The flock of griffins that Ford had been trying to study had gotten angry and swarmed him. The hollow tree Ford had taken shelter in hadn’t lasted long under their beaks and claws. On the mad sprint home he’d tripped and hurt his ankle somehow.</p><p>And then, when he’d finally made it inside, the griffins had started smashing through his upstairs windows.</p><p>He found himself bolting for the last place of relative safety, the old shed he’d commissioned Dan to put up as extra storage space, and the one he had recently been using as housing for a very large, very dangerous wolf. Who was currently raging and barking like a mad thing.</p><p>It couldn’t get much worse, could it? Rebus was itching for a fight. May as well give him one and hope that it would serve as an adequate distraction.</p><p>So long as Ford could keep himself off the menu.</p><p>He flung himself into a corner and covered his head with his arms as Rebus surged forward. He tore into the griffin that was half-way through the door. The winged beast’s roars quickly turned into screeches of pain as a chunk of its flesh was ripped clean off, its wings thrashing frantically in an attempt to escape the cramped space. Ford made himself as small as he could against the wall.</p><p>Rebus forced his way outside and there were more screeches and yelps of pain, from griffins and wolf alike. The latter was also snarling though – deep, rumbling sounds that seemed to split the air like thunder. Ford considered shutting himself in the cage – would that be safer? – but decided against it when the shed shuddered under the force of thrashing bodies. Better to be mobile.</p><p>The mostly-ruined door crashed open, sending the two tussling creatures sprawling inside. A griffin had gotten on top of Rebus and was slashing down at him while the wolf twisted and snarled. Spittle and blood flew from the creatures. Rebus was on his back, <em>vulnerable</em>, and as Ford stared the griffin slashed at his exposed underbelly.</p><p>Ford grabbed the nearest object – a metal crowbar from the wall – staggered forward and swung it as hard as he could against the griffin’s head with a satisfying <em>clang</em>.</p><p>It screeched and Rebus took advantage of the distraction to surge up and snap at its throat. The griffin recoiled. Its wings thrashed wildly as it struggled to free itself from the enraged wolf, one of them clipping Ford and sending him tripping back to the floor.</p><p>The griffin, now limping, tore its way out of the shed with Rebus hot on its heels. It launched itself into the air and Rebus sprang after it. There was a loud <em>ripping </em>sound.</p><p>Rebus crashed to the ground with a mouthful of feathers.</p><p>Ford gasped for breath. The property around them was suddenly deathly quiet, only the distant wing beats evidence that the griffins had been there at all.</p><p>Holy Moses. He dropped the crowbar numbly and tried to remember how to breathe. Sure, dangerous circumstances were numerous when you worked in a place like Gravity Falls, but try telling his autonomic nervous system that.</p><p>There was uneven padding and the click-click-click of nails on a hardwood floor.</p><p>Ford tensed. Letting Rebus out of his cage had scared off the griffins, but they had been scared for a reason – the creature was dangerous, as it had just proved. What if Ford had only put himself in worse danger? What if Rebus’s calm disposition didn’t last outside of the cage? What if he saw Ford as the next threat to deal with, or prey, or-</p><p>Rebus’s shadow fell across him. Ford hunched his shoulders and tried not to look threatening.</p><p>A low, canine whine. Rebus stuck his nose into Ford’s hair to snuffle it, which rather ruined the appearance of ‘big scary monster’. Perhaps there was less animosity there than he’d feared. When Rebus licked his hair Ford let out a wheezy laugh of relief and reached up hesitantly to touch the wolf – this time Rebus allowed Ford to pet his ears with a shaking hand. The creature’s matted fur was wet with blood.</p><p>“Well,” Ford said finally, “I guess that solves the question of whether or not you’ll try to maul me. I hope.”</p><p>Rebus huffed in a way that almost sounded like a laugh. The canine lowered himself to nose at Ford’s injured ankle, letting out another little whine. Ford rolled his eyes.</p><p>“You’re more hurt than me.”</p><p>He wasn’t lying. Rebus’s coarse, matted fur had stopped some of the damage but there were still bloody scratches across his pelt; the slashes on his belly were shallow but long. They overlapped with old scars.</p><p>Once he was reasonably sure Rebus wasn’t going to tear his throat out, Ford rose and made his way carefully outside. Yech, his yard was a mess. Covered in pieces of debris and blood splatters and red-stained feathers. That would be a nightmare to clean. At least he had plenty of samples now?</p><p> </p><p>Stan was glad to be free of that cage and, thankfully, Ford didn’t seem inclined to put him back in it. He was far too busy with putting his house back in order and cleaning up their assorted injuries. Stan stayed very still and allowed Ford to dress his cuts with stinging antiseptic. Just because he was a wolf didn’t mean he couldn’t get infections.</p><p>He hadn’t actually seen Ford’s house before – he’d known that his brother lived near some woods, but that was about it. It turned out that Ford lived in a mad-scientist-looking shack in the forest with only a winding road as evidence that he wasn’t alone in this pine forest.</p><p>Heh. Pines in the pines.</p><p>Stan explored the house yard and kept watch on the darkened forest in case those bird-things made a reappearance, while Ford was sweeping up shattered glass and stuff. The things didn’t come back.</p><p>Good. No freaky hell-creatures were gonna mess with his brother, not while Stan was around.</p><p>…wait.</p><p>Stan was leaving now, right? That was the plan. The fact that Ford seemed to want him around – maybe even saw him as more than just another creature to study – couldn’t change the facts. If Ford ever found out who Stan really was, he would be furious. Even more so now that Stan had kept the secret for so long.</p><p>He padded out hesitantly onto the lawn, scanning the forest. He could just… walk away. He’d already paid his dues to Sixer, saving his life. And the Stanleymobile would still be in the woods somewhere.</p><p>But…</p><p>But.</p><p>Ford had needed him today. Who was to say that Ford wouldn’t need him again? Besides, Stan didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go.</p><p>What Ford didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right?</p><p>“Rebus?” His brother’s call snapped Stan out of his thoughts and he glanced around to see Ford peering around the front door, as if trying to distinguish Stan against the night landscape. Heh. He remembered having crummy human vision.</p><p>Stan shook himself and trotted into the light, allowing Ford to spot him. The poindexter’s worried expression turned into a smile.</p><p>“There you are, I was worried you’d left.” He opened the door invitingly. “Since you don’t seem inclined to leave, I’m thinking you’ll want to be staying for a while. Inside might be comfier than out there.”</p><p>Stan didn’t hesitate to follow him inside.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some snippets of daily life, starring our two favourite boys!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As shaky as things with Rebus had begun, they quickly settled into a comfortable companionship. The wolf was stubborn and willful when he wanted to be but it was… actually quite nice, to have someone to talk to.</p><p>As the days passed Rebus allowed Ford closer and closer, finally permitting Ford to brush his wild fur when more than a few of Ford’s belongings got tangled up in there. If anything Rebus seemed to appreciate the grooming. Ford couldn’t say he liked having his hair brushed (it was too short to do anything with and he’d never had anyone try to touch it beyond casual hair-ruffling) but he had to admit, it was quite soothing to run his hands through clean, silky fur.</p><p>If only the wolf wasn’t so frightening to look at.</p><p>Ford sighed, standing alone and empty-handed at the front door where the mailman had run off screaming, taking Ford’s package with him. Rebus yawned and stretched and looked generally imposing and wolf-like.</p><p>“Could you not scare away the postman?” Ford complained. Rebus looked entirely unapologetic. “Unbelievable.”</p><p> </p><p>­­­­</p><p>“You’re only making this harder on yourself.”</p><p>Rebus growled stubbornly and planted his ass on the porch, refusing to move no matter how much Ford pushed and pulled. If only the darn wolf wasn’t so heavy! Ford was up to his elbows in thick fur.</p><p>“You’re filthy, <em>and</em> you’re shedding!” He pressed his back against the wolf and shoved, only managing to slide him a few centimeters. Great. In an hour they might reach the front door. “You need a wash.”</p><p>Rebus let out a little growl.</p><p>“Oh, stop that.” Ford grabbed handfuls of fur and pulled. The hound sighed dramatically and flopped onto the deck, making Ford squawk in frustration. “Don’t <em>lie down</em>! Rebus!”</p><p>Rebus resolutely ignored him. Ford straightened.</p><p>“Of course. Of course I have to deal with this.”</p><p>Rebus’s outright refusal to bathe almost reminded him of his teenaged years, Ma bullying Stanley into washing. ‘<em>A dip in tha ocean doesn’t count</em>!’ She’d scold. ‘<em>Go get yer ass in the shower or I’ll empty a bucket a’ water over yer head</em>!’</p><p>Hmm.</p><p>Rebus yelped when Ford dumped a bucket of cold water over him. Ford snickered at the wrinkled nose and dirty glare Rebus shot him as he crawled, wet and dripping, from the rather sudden puddle.</p><p>“You were the one who refused to move to the bathroom. Don’t blame me for the consequences.”</p><p>Ford got to feel vindictively gleeful, up until Rebus shook and sprayed him from head to toe in dirty water.</p><p> </p><p>­­</p><p>Ford went on a shopping run to stock up on supplies. When he returned, Rebus was curled up on the couch and the TV was blaring. Ford froze in the doorway.</p><p>Rebus glanced up almost guiltily. Reruns continued to play. The wolf rolled</p><p>sideways onto the remote and the TV switched off. Rebus yawned, stretched, and padded away, leaving Ford gaping.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was past midnight and Rebus was <em>still </em>bothering him! Ford threw down his pen and turned to glare blearily at the fussing animal. Rebus glared back from his spot in the doorway of Ford’s study.</p><p>“What? I already fed you! I’m busy.”</p><p>Wait, had he fed the wolf? He must have, Rebus would bark and whine and generally be a nuisance if Ford forgot. So what <em>else</em> did he want? Ford was getting frustrated with all the pacing and the stares. Rebus had been sending him those looks all night! All… morning? Afternoon? Ford wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it. He was pretty sure he’d pulled at least one all-nighter in the last few days but it was all a little hazy.</p><p>Tugging – Rebus had bitten his sweater sleeve and was currently <em>tugging</em> Ford out of his chair. Ford yelped and grabbed the desk to steady himself.</p><p>“<em>Hey!</em>”</p><p>He pulled back. Rebus yanked again with a jerk of his head and sent Ford stumbling forward.</p><p>“Let me go – you ridiculous animal – hey!”</p><p>Rebus continued dragging him through the house until Ford stumbled and caught himself on the frame of his bedroom door. He grabbed Rebus’s jaw to try and pry the fabric from his teeth but Rebus shook his head from side to side to avoid the reaching hands.</p><p>At some point it devolved into a tug-of-war, Ford still half inside his sweater and unable to hold back snorts of laughter at how <em>hopelessly</em> tangled he was quickly becoming. He wrestled Rebus to the ground as well as he could one-armed. Rebus growled playfully and tugged at his clothes.</p><p>Ford wheezed. He hadn’t noticed it while at his desk, but now that he was moving his vision was swimming a little. Come to think of it, when had he last slept? He was conveniently near his bedroom, as if that was where Rebus had been so intent on pulling him. Maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt…?</p><p>Rebus seemed to sense that Ford’s head wasn’t in the game anymore, because he quit playing and instead leaned against Ford’s side. The scientist yawned and reached up blindly to pet Rebus’s ears.</p><p>“Yes, yes… play can wait. I think I’ll try to catch a few hours of sleep.”</p><p>Rebus didn’t seem too disheartened. In fact, he watched sternly as Ford stumbled to bed, letting out a satisfied huff when Ford’s head hit the pillow.</p><p><em>Odd behaviour</em>… Ford thought, before slipping into dreams.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Rebus growled and dodged out of the way as Ford tried to clip the harness around his chest.</p><p>“Stay still! A leash is necessary if I don’t want to get in trouble. It’s either this or a collar, and you made your position clear on collars.”</p><p>Rebus glared at the object in Ford’s hand. The scientist scowled.</p><p>“You and I both know you don’t need a leash. But the residents of Gravity Falls don’t. They’ll get in a panic if you walk up unrestrained! Do you want to visit the town or not?”</p><p>The stare-off continued, until Rebus finally looked away. Ears pressed flat, he slunk forward to unhappily let Ford clip him in.</p><p>“See? Not so hard.” Ford said triumphantly. Rebus continued to mope the entire drive down to Gravity falls. That is, until the houses came into view. The wolf perked up, even going so far as to press his face to the window to get a good view of the town around them.</p><p>Once Ford parked and they exited the vehicle, getting around became a little more difficult, what with the teen screaming ‘WOLF’ and jumpscaring everyone on the street. Ford lifted his hands, holding the leash in clear view, in the hopes of de-escalating the situation.</p><p>“It’s okay, he’s domesticated. He’s my, uh…” Damn, he hadn’t thought this far ahead. “…dog. A crossbreed.”</p><p>The teen continued to peer suspiciously at the obviously-a-wolf. Rebus wagged his tail helpfully.</p><p>“…okay.” She said dubiously. “Er – what’s its name?”</p><p>“Rebus.”</p><p>The teen tipped her head, still squinting somewhat. “Does it bite?”</p><p>“Certainly not.” Ford lied. Well, it technically wasn’t a lie – Rebus didn’t bite <em>people</em>. The wolf in question stepped forward to greet the slightly-less-suspicious teenager, who hesitantly offered one hand.</p><p>“Um. Hi, Rebus? I’m Matilda.” She added to Ford, who nodded and introduced himself in turn.</p><p>“Stanford Pines.”</p><p>Matilda looked up suddenly from petting Rebus. “Wait, you’re the scientist dude who lives in that weird shack?”</p><p>Ford rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well, yes. I am a scientist.”</p><p>“No kidding. Everyone knows about you, dude. They’ve just never met you before. Or heard your name or know anything about you.”</p><p>“I tend to keep to myself.” Ford admitted. “How did you know who I am?”</p><p>“My boyfriend Dan talks about you sometimes.”</p><p>“Ah, yes, Boyish Dan. The lumberjack.”</p><p>Matilda sent him finger guns. She seemed quite laid-back when she wasn’t screaming about wolves. Ford decided to chalk up that incident to surprise.</p><p>“Well, give him my regards. Rebus and I must be on our way before the shop closes.”</p><p>“Sure.” Matilda stood, dusting hair off her jeans. “And, uh, just a word of advice; you might wanna get that dog a collar.”</p><p>Rebus shot him a glare. Ford sighed. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Ford had grown used to the crashing of gnomes raiding his bins every few days. When he first came to Gravity Falls he’d tried to put a stop to it, but they’d always come back the next day. Eventually he had given up. They rarely tried coming inside, and as long as they stuck to raiding the bins and nothing else it was tolerable.</p><p>But he hadn’t heard the tell-tail banging and clattering for almost a week now. Ford peeked through the window to check; there sat a row of untouched bins. The gnomes hadn’t just gotten very quiet all of a sudden; they hadn’t come at all. Why had they suddenly decided to leave his house alone? Not that he wasn’t thankful. More often than not they would leave a mess for Ford to clean up after.</p><p>There was the clicking of claws, and Rebus brushed against his legs on his way to the lounge. Ford failed to notice the strands of grey beard hair sticking out against his dark coat, and turned away from the window just in time to miss a party of scuffed and bruised gnomes scrambling into the forest as fast as their little legs could carry them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Ford had made a slight, miniscule mistake.</p><p>A lapse of judgment, maybe. He’d gotten so caught up in a recent breakthrough that he had… maybe… forgotten to pay the power bills. And the water bills. And, he was pretty sure, a couple other bills he probably should have been paying.</p><p>With the sudden onset of a blizzard he was now firmly shut up in his not-heated house, shivering against the chill. He’d tried lighting a fire but what little firewood he had available had been soaked through by the melting snow. Ford resorted to bundling up in the warmest clothes he could find and huddling on the couch.</p><p>He shot a jealous look at Rebus, still shivering slightly under layers of blankets. The wolf’s heavy coat had finally come in handy and now he lay, perfectly warm and content, on the carpet.</p><p>Ford pulled his blankets tighter around him, unable to suppress a shiver. He vowed to never forget to pay his electricity bills again.</p><p>Rustling got his attention – Rebus had gotten up from his comfortable napping spot and yawned, before jumping up onto the couch next to Ford. Ford lifted one corner of the blankets invitingly.</p><p>Rebus squirmed in with him, heavy and warm, like an oversized heater. Ford didn’t object when the wolf lay half on top of him and yawned again. He only buried his face and hands in the warm fur and, toasty and comfortable for the first time in hours, fell asleep.</p><p>(he would wake up the next morning with a crick in his neck and a wolf snoring against him, warm despite the frostiness of the air. And after that night Rebus would often sleep by him, curled up at his feet or at the foot of his bed or flopped across him without a care in the world, as if liberated by the realization that he was truly safe and wanted)</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but I didn't want to split it up! It was written in a hurry because I was excited to get it out to y'all, so let me know if I've made any typos or mistakes. As always I adore your comments so feel free to tell me what you think.</p><p>Hope you guys enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You should come down to Gravity Falls!”</p><p>Ford didn’t quite think about the words before he blurted them. His close (and only) friend from college had mentioned in their weekly phone call that he and his family were thinking about taking a holiday from his would-be small computer business, and Ford had reacted without thought.</p><p>He laughed nervously, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Rebus padded through the kitchen with the click-click-click of claws that Ford had become accustomed to over the last month.</p><p>Ford cleared his throat. “If you want to, of course. I would love to show you some of the research on anomalies I’ve been doing, and I think Tate and Emma-May would like it here. I have plenty of space in my house.”</p><p>“Well sure Stanford, if you don’t mind.” Fiddleford said cheerfully. “I’ve been meanin’ to visit for a while now. Course, I don’t wanna get in the way o’ yer research if you’re busy.”</p><p>“Not at all.” From the other room Rebus let out a bark, and Fiddleford squeaked.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“Oh, just my dog. There are probably some Manotaurs passing by.”</p><p>“Ya have a dog? When did that happen?”</p><p>“A month or so ago. His name is Rebus.”</p><p>Fiddleford huffed out a laugh. “Well, at least ya got yerself <em>some</em> company. That dog sounded mighty fearsome; ya sure he’s safe? I don’t wanna bring Tate around if e’s gonna bite.”</p><p>“Oh, Rebus is a sweetheart.” A savage growl issued from the other room. “He’s great with kids. When he accompanies me into town he will often play with the children in the playground.”</p><p>Rebus growled again, a growl Ford was reasonably certain was aimed at him for daring to imply that the wolf had a heart. Not that Ford had been lying – the kids in town <em>loved</em> Rebus and he delighted in running around with them while Ford ran errands. He was a veritable gentle giant.</p><p>“Tate would love him.” Ford continued, unconcerned with the wannabe threat display. The stubborn wolf reminded him of his brother sometimes, all bark and no bite.</p><p>…except when he did bite.</p><p>“If yer sure.” There was rustling on the other end of the line. “That sounds like a mighty fine idea, Stanford. I’ll have to check with Emma-May, of course, but I’d love ta see some of these anomalies you’ve told me about. Check that yer not crazy, at least!”</p><p>“I assure you, these things are one hundred percent real. You’ll be able to see for yourself.” Ford assured him.</p><p>“Does Friday afternoon work fer ya? We figured we’d go on the weekend so Tate doesn’t miss much school.”</p><p>“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll prepare the spare room.” Ford said excitedly. “It’s been quite some time since I had company.”</p><p>“Ah – Stanford?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Exactly how long has it been since you talked to someone?”</p><p>“A few hours.”</p><p>“Other than yer dog I mean.”</p><p>“Oh, only a week or so.”</p><p>There was a pause. “Was that ‘someone’ me?”</p><p>“Er…”</p><p>“When was the last time you talked to a human being <em>aside </em>from myself?”</p><p>Ford laughed nervously. “Ah, it seems the connection is breaking up I’ll call back another time-”</p><p>“Stanford-”</p><p>“Say hello to Emma-May for me <em>bye</em>!”</p><p>He hung up.</p><p> </p><p>Stan heard the car approach first, the approaching rumble of its engine dragging him from a light doze in that ever-illusive pool of light in the hallway. His ears picked up and he let out the beginnings of a warning growl at the intruders.</p><p>That was, until he remembered that they were <em>supposed</em> to have visitors. He yawned and stretched, slightly annoyed at having his nap interrupted but more curious to see who it was that Ford had been expecting. Being the local canine, people didn’t usually run names and stuff by him.</p><p>All Stan had been able to tell was that whoever was coming Ford was pretty excited to see them, judging by the way he had hustled and bustled to prepare the spare room. It had been pretty nice, these past few days, to just chill and watch Ford buzz around the place. In those years apart he’d missed Ford’s relentless energy; the way he bounced on his heels when excited, and the little flapping, and the excited gleam in his eyes, the way he could never quite hold still. It was pretty hilarious to watch the nerd get all wound up.</p><p>God, Stan hoped it wasn’t a family member. If Pa walked through that door…</p><p>Maybe it was that guy Ford was always calling, Fiddlesticks or something? Seemed likely. From what Stan could tell, his brother had a maximum of two friends. And one of them was a wolf.</p><p>He padded out to watch Ford open the door for… a small family? The man shook Ford’s hand while the woman chatted and held a small child on her hip.</p><p>“It’s great to see you again, Stanford. Thank you for letting us stay in your home.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s no problem, I have plenty of space.” Ford assured her.</p><p>“And Fiddleford said you had a – <em>oh</em> <em>sweet Mother Mary</em>-”</p><p>Stan was used to the usual ‘Oh my god is that a wolf?’ song and dance. He stepped forward and wagged his tail helpfully. Scaring kids and dames was only funny when you were <em>trying </em>to scare them. When you weren’t, it got old pretty quick.</p><p>The strange man leaned down and hesitantly offered one hand, and Stan allowed himself to be petted. Show of goodwill, and all that. The guy was short and twiggy and he smelled of engine grease and metal and root beer and straw. Stan decided that he liked the guy. The lady, too. Her suspicious gaze had mellowed out and now Stan could see the smile lines around her eyes. The kid, however, seemed… sticky.</p><p>Aaaand the kid had fussed to be placed down and was now trying to touch Stan’s tail. He whisked it out of reach but the sticky brat was laughing and already chasing after it.</p><p><em>Oh, hell no</em>. Kid wanted to get its grubby mitts all over his coat? Think again. Stan darted out of its way and weaved past the adults to try and throw it off. Ford didn’t even try to help, the smug bastard.</p><p>
  <em>Alright kid. You think you got stamina? Let’s see about that.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The kid.</p><p>Would not.</p><p><em>Stop</em>.</p><p>Tate, as it turned out his name was, seemed to have <em>boundless</em> energy. The two kept up their game of cat-and-mouse all afternoon until Stan flopped on the porch, panting for breath. Tate squealed and rushed forward to bury his hands in Stan’s thick fur.</p><p><em>You win this round, pipsqueak</em>.</p><p>A part of him wanted to place the kid on a high shelf where he couldn’t get in the way, and leave him there. Another part of him… wanted to lick his face and wag his tail. C’mon, mighty hunter and all that! Stan was supposed to have more dignity than like… a Labrador or whatever.</p><p>His traitor tail wagged anyway.</p><p>Ford and the dame, Emma-May or something, stepped outside to join them, Ford glancing over his shoulder and biting his lip as he went. Stan wondered idly where his nerd friend was.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry, Fiddles hardly ever electrocutes himself!” Emma-May said cheerfully. “He’ll be done with his tinkering in no time.”</p><p>“…I was worried for my toaster.”</p><p>Emma-May flapped her hand. “Oh, it’ll be fine. I think he said something about making it like ours.”</p><p>“How has Fiddleford improved your toaster?”</p><p>“I dunno, but it has a lot of blinky lights and sometimes it smells like burning sugar!”</p><p>“…I feel like you’re trying to be reassuring?”</p><p>Stan should probably be on the lookout for smoke. He scented the air and got a whiff of something like burning plastic from inside…</p><p>…and curdled <em>wrongness</em>.</p><p>He wrinkled his nose. The air smelled weird and it was vaguely familiar, like he’d smelled it before, but never this strongly. There was something oily and metallic and… squirrelly?</p><p>Stan shook Tate’s clingy hands from his coat and stood to scan the house yard. Nothing <em>looked </em>out of the ordinary. But it just didn’t smell right.</p><p>The faintest scrape of claws on wood made him snap around. There – clinging to a house support and evidently trying to climb up to the roof was what might have once been a squirrel. Emphasis on <em>once</em>. Its front limbs were bulkier than the back ones with claws like tiny steak knives buried into the wood grain. Its fur hung off in patches and it was <em>big</em> – more raccoon-sized than squirrel-sized. The extra weight seemed to be giving it grief because it was struggling to make headway.</p><p>Fat bastard, Stan thought petulantly.</p><p>“Err – Stanford?” Emma-May piped up. “What on god’s good earth is <em>that</em>?”</p><p>Stan glanced across to follow her pointing finger. Apparently he wasn’t the only one to notice the thing.</p><p>Ford squinted and stepped closer to the rodent, which started hissing around overgrown teeth like a stepped-on snake with a lisp. “It… it appears to be another mutated creature. I’ve been finding them around the place since I got here. My hypothesis is that they’ve been somehow affected by the size-changing crystals in the forest.”</p><p>“The what-nows?”</p><p>Ford’s eyes brightened. “Oh, in the forest there are natural crystal formations that, when light is shined through them, have the ability to change an object or organism’s shape. The majority of the mutant sightings have been around that area. I’ve been meaning to investigate but a freak blizzard recently ruined my plans. Now, if I can just capture this specimen here…”</p><p>“Throw a blanket over it?” Emma-May suggested.</p><p>“Perhaps. I have a number of size-appropriate cages in my shed, would you mind keeping watch over the creature while I retrieve one?”</p><p>“Sure thing.”</p><p>Ford went to walk past but the movement seemed to startle the squirrel, which launched itself wildly into the air and latched onto Ford’s sleeve, scurrying up his arm. He yelped and flailed. Fortunately Emma-May smacked it and sent it flying. Unfortunately it skidded across the ground and took off towards where Tate was playing in the grass.</p><p>Fortunately, that was also where Stan was.</p><p>He lunged forward and snapped up the rodent in one bite before it could get close to the kid. Its tiny body gave out with a single, pathetic <em>crunch</em>. Weird-tasting blood exploded in his mouth.</p><p>Ford coughed. “Well.”</p><p>Stan spat out the creature, wrinkling his nose. The thing tasted – wrong. Like its blood was tainted with seawater and oil slick with an added hint of burning rubber. He spluttered and swiped at his tongue to try and get rid of the rancid flavour.</p><p>Ugh, were squirrels so corrupted by the weight of their sins that it seeped into their <em>blood</em>?</p><p>“Is it dead?” Ford asked curiously. Emma-May walked over to scoop up her child and prod the body with her shoe.</p><p>“Depends. Can these mutant things live with a snapped spine?”</p><p>“Dead, then. Still! It’s a specimen to study. I’ll get – oh, I suppose I won’t be needing that cage anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Nothing blew up that weekend. Stan took that as a win.</p><p>The McGuckets were… a different sort of folk than he was used to. They smiled so <em>easily</em>. Those two dopes of parents looked at their kid like he was the moon and the sun and everything in between, like they wouldn’t kick him out onto the streets no matter what dumb mistakes he made. Damn. Imagine that.</p><p>The Sunday night before they were set to leave Emma-May retired to bed early and Fiddleford and Ford settled onto the couch to talk, with cans of beer in hand and Tate playing happily with his Legos. Stan dropped onto the carpet to keep a watchful eye on the little brat. The fire crackled softly and cast a warm light across the room, its heat pressing against his fur.</p><p>A month or so ago he would never have let himself relax like this. He would be watching the window, ears pricked for any sign of…</p><p>Huh. He couldn’t remember the name of the man chasing him. When he thought hard there was a flash of scarred hands and packets of white powder and the taste of blood in his mouth. That’s right, the guy Stan had used to run drugs for a few years back, the guy who was now after him. Why couldn’t Stan remember his name?</p><p>Ford and Fiddleford’s murmuring rose slightly above the crackle of the fire and the clinking of Legos.</p><p>“-ya mean Shermie?”</p><p>“No, my… other brother. My twin, Stanley.” Ford said quietly.</p><p>It took Stan a moment to remember that that was <em>his</em> name. He rested his chin on his paws and tuned into the conversation.</p><p>“Ford, ya never told me ya had a twin.”</p><p>“No, I probably didn’t. You see, Stanley and I parted on… unpleasant terms. I haven’t seen him in almost a decade.”</p><p>“A <em>decade</em>?” Fiddleford squawked. “Why in the blazes not?”</p><p>“It’s complicated. Fiddleford, do you remember when I told you how I was rejected from West Coast Tech?”</p><p>“When you were drunk outta yer mind and I had to drag ya back to our dorm? Yes, I do recall.” Fiddleford said dryly.</p><p>“Yes, well. It was Stanley who sabotaged my project. He <em>insisted</em> it was an accident, but…” Ford sighed.</p><p>“Why do you bring him up?” Fiddleford tipped his head. Ford sighed and pulled off his glasses to polish them on his sleeve.</p><p>“I was hoping to get your advice, actually. Recently he’s been coming to mind more and more. I thought that, perhaps, he might have grown up over the last decade, and it might be worth getting in contact and seeing how he’s doing. Do… do you think people can change that much?”</p><p><em>Change. </em>Had Stan changed much? Except for the whole werewolf thing…</p><p>It was like trying to think through sludge. Stan hardly remembered what it was like to be human. Or… human-shaped. Jeez, how long had he been Shifted for? Time was slipping away from him in this little bubble of happiness. Stan had never been in wolf form for this long before.</p><p>A chill shivered through him. The nerds’ talking continued but it was background noise to the humming of his thoughts. He stood and padded into the hallway, ignoring Tate’s whine. Stan shouldered through the (thankfully unlocked) front door and trotted outside.</p><p>He glanced around warily before slipping into the trees. Once a quick scan showed that he was alone, he Shifted.</p><p>Or… tried to.</p><p>The change that had once been liquid and effortless now felt like trying to shove a square peg through a circular hole. His skin prickled. Stan shook himself and tried again with a small growl.</p><p>The Shift swept across him with the popping of joints and the crackle of cartilage; creaky, like a neglected machine that had acquired rust from years of disuse. Stan gritted his newly-flat teeth and waited for the agonizingly slow Shift to pass.</p><p>He ended up crouched on the damp earth, breathing hard and squinting through suddenly blurry vision at the dark, hazy world around him. His skin felt itchy and it pinched in all the wrong places, like a suit that didn’t quite fit.</p><p>Well, shit. Note to self: don’t stay in wolf form for weeks at a time.</p><p>Stan flexed his hands, trying to reacquaint himself with having fingers and opposable thumbs. Being <em>human</em>. Or human-shaped, at least.</p><p>Because he was still a person. No matter what he looked like he wasn’t just some – some <em>pet</em>. He had a <em>life</em> to get back to.</p><p>Except… he didn’t. Not really.</p><p>Stan chewed over that piece of information for moment. Before he could really think about it a voice called his name. With a final stretch he slipped back into an awkward Shift, easier than before, and trotted after his brother’s voice.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys! Sorry about the sporadic updates. Things are getting a bit crazy, what with my Mock exams coming up. I'm hoping to update a little more frequently from now on. Let's see how that goes...</p><p>Sooo this chapter is a lot shorter than the others, more of an interlude than anything, but I wanted to put this scene in before the next chapter (in which things are gonna start getting EXCITING)</p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Predictably, Tate put up a fuss at having to leave. He whined and wailed and threw a tantrum when his parents tried to put him in the car, wrapping his pudgy arms around Stan’s neck and stubbornly refusing to let go. Damn, that brat was cute. Stan hoped they would come to visit again. He licked Tate’s nose comfortingly and the kid broke off his whining to let out a giggle.</p><p>Eventually the McGuckets managed to depart (with a huge amount of waving and horn honking and <em>goodbye head pets!!!</em>). It was with a wagging tail that Stan followed his brother into his study. The house was oddly quiet now.</p><p>Ford flopped into his chair and glared at the phone.</p><p>Stan paused, trying to understand the intent behind the look. What, did the thing up and bite him? Things around here were weird, maybe the phones bit or something. He rumbled curiously.</p><p>“If he wanted to reconnect he could have called me.” Ford said abruptly. Stan tilted his head, and Ford threw up his hands. “Communication is a two-way street! Obviously he must not want to talk to me.”</p><p>The words… Stan felt like he should know what Ford was talking about. It made him feel blurry, like he did when he tried to think too hard.</p><p>“And anyway, we’d have nothing to talk about.” Ford sighed. “Let’s not forget that he sabotaged my chance to get into my <em>dream school</em>, because of petty jealousy. Why would I even want to talk to him anymore?”</p><p><em>Oooh.</em> Ford was talking about Stan.</p><p>Stan got the feeling that in human form he would feel more strongly about this, but right now he was trying to remember <em>why</em>. He… missed Ford. He used to? But he <em>had</em> Ford now.</p><p>Ford pulled a slip of paper from a drawer and frowned at it. The ink was smudged, a well-worn crease indicating that it had been opened and closed a <em>lot</em>.</p><p>“This is ridiculous.” Ford sighed and laid it flat on the table to read as he started dialing.</p><p>Dialing… Stan? But Stan didn’t have a phone. He didn’t even have hands, how could he…</p><p>Oh yeah. Human form. Right.</p><p>When he thought hard, he could remember a little rented unit he’d had a while ago, with a phone in it. He’d only been there for a couple months but he <em>had</em> called Ma a few times. She probably passed on the number. How long, Stan wondered idly, had Ford had that number?</p><p>Ford pressed enter and held the phone to his ear, tapping his fingers nervously on the desk. After a few minutes of tense silence he evidently didn’t like what he heard, because he scowled and slammed it down again.</p><p>“Of course it’s outdated. Stanley has <em>never</em> been capable of committing to anything, let alone a <em>house</em>. Why did I think he’d make this easy for me?”</p><p>Ford groaned and buried his face in his hands, and any upset Stan may have felt vanished under a flood of <em>brother-sad-help-comfort</em>. He walked over to nose his brother’s hand and let out a little whine.</p><p>Ford dropped his hands to stroke Stan’s fur. His brow was furrowed and his mouth pinched, but his expression softened when he noticed Stan’s obvious concern. “…not that that comes as much of a surprise. Stan is… well, not exactly dependable. He always has been. I’d hoped that he would have grown up since I last saw him. Settled down, gotten a job… made some friends at least…” Ford shook his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. In any case, we have a busy day tomorrow, and I have several preparations to make.”</p><p>He rose with a final pat and headed for his lab, leaving Stan alone with his uncomfortable thoughts.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ford was early to rise, intent on packing for a day of research in the forest. His journal and writing implements went into his backpack along with some mushrooms, in case he had to bribe any gnomes. Sample bags – for taking samples, obviously. Trail mix for Ford and jerky for Rebus. A pocket knife for cutting through any unwanted vegetation. A small case of tools in case any of his equipment needed recalibrating. The equipment itself; most notably, the old metal detector he had converted into a handheld mutation-scanner.</p><p>Well, technically it detected a currently-unknown element he’d found traces of in a mutated squirrel’s body, that he suspected was the cause of the mutation. Close enough.</p><p>Ford fiddled with the makeshift scanner, checking that it was in working order, before he aimed it at the freezer. After a brief hesitation the machine chirped.</p><p>“Yes!” Ford grinned excitedly. And then hesitated. “…perhaps there is a better place to keep specimens.”</p><p>Hmm.</p><p>Rebus shot him a look across the kitchen that seemed to say, ‘why yes, maybe you shouldn’t be keeping a mutated squirrel corpse in the same freezer you store food in’. Ford huffed.</p><p>“Well, for the moment it’s the only place I have where it can be properly preserved. Now come here, I want to test something.”</p><p>Rebus trotted forward and Ford lifted his scanner towards the wolf. The scanner remained unresponsive.</p><p>“…that’s odd.” Ford had been sure that the wolf’s eccentricities had been the result of the same mutation. If it wasn’t that…</p><p>It beeped. Ford studied his scanner curiously.</p><p>“The element’s presence is weaker in you than in the squirrel, but that could be due to the level of exposure, or perhaps the amount of time since the exposure. In any case, my hypothesis was correct! You must have come into contact with the source material somehow…” Rebus cocked his head inquisitively. “How should I know? That’s what today’s expedition is for. If it’s not the crystals I may try to retrace your steps before you came here.”</p><p>At the last moment Ford pulled on a thick coat to hide from the winter chill. It wasn’t yet snowing but the ground gleamed with frost. He shrugged on his backpack and, armed with his journal in hand, started the trek into the woods.</p><p>Rebus padded alongside him – Rebus went everywhere with him. Ford could hardly remember <em>not </em>having the massive, shaggy hound around. Who did he used to talk to while he worked? Himself?</p><p>…when he was younger, he used to talk to Stanley.</p><p>His brother rarely understood the content but he always listened intently while Ford rambled on about parabolas or string theory or whatever he was studying. Stanley had always seemed to know exactly what Ford needed. He gave his undivided attention even to subjects he found boring, just because Ford loved them. Their parents often thought Ford was annoying but Stan <em>listened</em> and it had been one of Ford’s favourite things to rush to him with whatever exciting new fact he’d learned so they could be excited together. When Ford had gotten self-conscious about stimming in public Stan would blow a raspberry, flap his hands and jump around until Ford couldn’t help but join in too, and he was having so much fun that didn’t much care anymore what others thought.</p><p>A bump against Ford’s side brought him back to the present and he stumbled, catching himself on the tree trunk Rebus had just stopped him from walking into face-first.</p><p>Ford gave his head a quick shake to clear it, irritated with himself. Why was he thinking about <em>Stanley</em>? He was in the process of making a scientific discovery! There were more important things to think about.</p><p>…if this truly was a previously-undiscovered element, would Ford get to name it?</p><p>The deeper they walked into the forest the more uneasy Ford’s travelling partner seemed to get. Rebus’s thick fur prickled and he pressed close to Ford’s side, casting wary glances at the forest around them. The anxiousness was infectious. Ford gripped his sensor tightly and rested one hand on the wolf’s back, taking comfort in the contact. Ford didn’t notice anything amiss, but canine senses were notoriously sharper than humans’. Perhaps the crystal formations grew in the territory of another predator; or, perhaps, the griffin flock from earlier had passed through this area. Whatever the reason Rebus remained on-edge through the majority of the hike.</p><p>Ford’s apprehension, however, was forgotten the moment the crystals came into view. He picked up his pace and hurried into their midst, chatting to Rebus as he did.</p><p>“Now, last time I was here I planned to measure the crystals’ growth, and I made a mark – ah, here! Hmm. They haven’t grown since I last checked, which was… four months ago. My, time does fly. I suppose I can disregard the theory that they have an accelerated growth rate. When we return to the house I must remember to investigate natural crystal formation. There’s still the possibility that their growth rate is <em>slower</em> than the norm!”</p><p>Rebus let out a curious-sounding rumble, wariness seemingly sidelined for the moment. It wasn’t a question, but Ford elaborated anyway.</p><p>“Ah, you see, investigating the conditions of their formation will allow me to deduce what other places they may exist in.” Ford glanced up at the sky, reassuring himself that the mildly overcast weather had not cleared up since he began this expedition. Fluctuating levels of sunlight would increase the chance of either Ford or Rebus getting caught in a stray size-altering beam.</p><p>Ford lifted his sensor and ran it carefully over the nearest crystal, which was a lovely blush colour. There was no reaction so he moved onto the next.</p><p>“Now, hopefully my scanner here will pick up traces of that mystery element. Considering it has been present in every creature I’ve known to be affected by the mutation, there is a high chance that it will be present in the <em>source</em> of the mutation.” Ford glanced over his shoulder at Rebus, who seemed torn between watching Ford curiously and glaring at the forest around them. “Hmm, perhaps your presence here might skew the results if you carry traces of it… then again, the element’s presence in you is quite weak, and… <em>aha</em>!”</p><p>The last part was a triumphant cry as his sensor beeped. The crystal it had landed on looked very much like its neighbours but for the tiny flecks of some sort of mineral deposit inside its translucent body, peppering the stream of sunlight focused through it with tiny shadows. The grass around this particular crystal grew thicker and more virulent than in the rest of the clearing. Perhaps…</p><p>Ford plucked the leaf from a nearby tree and experimentally dropped it into said beam of light. It plopped lightly to the ground and did <em>not</em> grow or shrink as expected. Instead, as he watched, the delicate veins began to swell and bulge.</p><p>Ford let out a rush of air. “The <em>light</em>. The minerals in the crystal must be distorting its natural size-altering properties! Don’t you see Rebus, this is most likely the source of the mutated creatures running around Gravity Falls.”</p><p>Rebus padded over leaned against Ford’s side, a steady presence. Ford whipped out his journal to start jotting down observations.</p><p>“But why only now… the crystal fragments in the grass suggest that one was damaged recently, perhaps a formation that prevented light reaching the deformed crystal. In the wake of its absence the deformed crystal has been exposed to light and thus will affect any creature that walks into its path!” He studied the swollen leaf. “Yes, that would explain the disproportionate physique of affected creatures; and I wonder if it influences their disposition as well, or if the ones I’ve come across were already predisposed to violence. Perhaps the latter, given that you seem to have been affected both physically and mentally and yet are non-aggressive towards humans.”</p><p>Rebus let out an offended huff.</p><p>“Don’t give me that look. The fact that you seem to have some understanding of what I’m saying to you at all suggests heightened intelligence that I suspect came from this very source.” Ford nodded to himself. “Yes, yes… I’ll definitely have to run some experiments on this. Perhaps I can isolate and identify the mystery mineral. It will be a good excuse to test my new Mass Spectrometer!”</p><p>Ford (very carefully) scraped off several samples of the crystal. Drilling into it to extract a fleck of mystery mineral took quite some time. He frowned to himself as he guided a pair of tweezers into the narrow hole, trying to extract one while causing minimal damage to the crystal. Fiddly work indeed. He was glad he’d packed a small hand drill and a facial mask, to avoid breathing in any of the dust.</p><p>Rebus let out a distressed whine from behind him.</p><p>“Yes, yes, I know. We’ll leave in a second, I just need to collect this sample.” Ford carefully lifted the glinting fleck and dropped it into a plastic bag, quickly folding it up and securing it into his pack to avoid any light shining onto it. He had enough oddities already, thank you very much. He wasn’t looking to be mutated on top of that.</p><p>Ford packed up his equipment and shrugged on his pack with a wide grin. Rebus shook himself and padded over to join him as Ford began the walk back. Ford’s mind raced as he walked. With these samples he should be able to run tests and deduce the exact nature of its effect on organic tissue. Hopefully he would be able to reverse-engineer its effects to cure affected creatures. Perhaps he should pull a tarp over the deformed crystal to prevent it from mutating anything else?</p><p>Ford was still deep in thought when they broke the thick tree cover and headed through a more sparse area of vegetation. Rebus growling was his first clue that they weren’t alone. His second clue was something growling back.</p><p>Ford froze as a low, aggressive huffing filled the air. He turned slowly, shoulders hunched, to catch a glimpse of a big body across the clearing. Big, covered in patchy, shaggy brown fur, disproportionate as it gathered up its huge mass to stomp and woof angrily at the growling wolf. The Rebus of bears, as it was. The hairs on the back of Ford’s neck prickled.</p><p>…ah. So that was the reason for Rebus’s wariness.</p><p>Ford took a slow step backwards and the bear stomped and whuffed, peeling back its lips to display yellowish teeth. Rebus’s rumbling growl got a little louder. Ford tried to <em>think</em>. Why would a wild bear attack them? Maybe there were cubs nearby, or simply they’d wandered too close into its territory and it felt threatened. Their best bet was to back away slowly, appear small as they edged out of its territory-</p><p>Rebus sprang forward.</p><p>“No!” Ford yelped but the wolf was already charging for the creature’s throat. The bear hunched its shoulders to protect its vulnerable neck and its teeth snapped shut just shy of Rebus’s leg. The wolf yelped and the bear swung one massive paw and sent him skidding.</p><p>Ford yelled, which, in hindsight, may have been a mistake, because the now-enraged bear charged towards him.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ford tried to run, but he was backed up against prickly bushes and lost his footing. He crashed back into the undergrowth, narrowly avoiding dashing his head on a boulder. Prickly bushes caught at his clothes and raked down his skin, catching him tight as he tried and failed desperately to scramble away from the hulking creature that was barreling towards him.</p><p>From the concave face profile and jutting jaws, the coin-shaped black button nose, and the short, rounded ears, it was definitely a bear; or it might have been once. The hump of its shoulders identifying it as a grizzly had swollen into a hunched back. The raggedy clumps of fur hanging from its oversized body, patches of crusty yellow skin and bloated proportions didn’t contribute much to the grizzly bear look. Those massive claws, thick and cruelly hooked like scythes, dug into the dirt beneath it. Overgrown, even for an animal of its size. They sunk into the ground and slashed up roots. The oozing slices on its legs would imply that those claws were clumsy and very, very sharp.</p><p>
  <em>(Considering that grizzly bears had reportedly been killed off in Oregon this creature was more likely to have once been a black bear, but its physique would beg to differ. Its anatomy was more grizzly-based than anything. Then again this was a town in which gnomes stealing one’s garbage was a common annoyance, so perhaps the statistics of bear sightings bore little importance here. He would have to ask the fairies and other supernatural residents of gravity falls if they’d seen many bears around.)</em>
</p><p>And then Ford had no more time to think, because the creature lunged for his face. He screeched and flung up his arms in defense – its jaws snapped shut around his forearm and Ford was suddenly very grateful for the thickness of his jacket that kept the fangs from digging in too deep. He tried to pry open its jaws with his free hand.</p><p>The bear thrashed its head back and forth, savagely tearing Ford’s arm around like it wanted to <em>rip</em> it out of its socket. Ford yelled as he was yanked from the clutches of the bushes and thrown about like a rag doll. Fangs dug into his arm and something hot soaked into his sleeve but he couldn’t feel any pain, just the terror and adrenaline pouring through his body. He aimed a kick and hit something solid.</p><p>The monstrous bear let out a strangled yelp and its jaws loosened, sending Ford skidding across the torn-up ground. He dug his fingers into dirt and tried to scramble to his feet, to run, but the creature was already bunching itself up to charge. Ford’s hand closed around a fist-sized rock.</p><p>With a bound Rebus was there, skidding over churned-up ground to crouch over Ford, torn and bloody with his lips peeled back to show red-stained teeth. A rumbling growl swelled from his chest as he glared over Ford’s head, shoulders hunched and ears flattened.</p><p>The bear charged.</p><p>
  <em>(Grizzly bears can run at up to 35 kilometers an hour, easily faster than humans-)</em>
</p><p>Rebus shot forward and tackled the bear head-on with enough force to shove it to a stop. The bear roared as he snapped at its face and throat, claws raking its hide. It shook him off and lunged at him.</p><p>Rebus yet out a yelp as the bear sank its teeth and nails into his skin, shoving him into the dirt. He twisted and scrabbled uselessly at its shoulders. The bear would not be derailed. It bit down harder.</p><p>Rebus slashed it across the eye.</p><p>The bear roared in agony and smacked him away with a huge paw, sending the wolf skidding. Rebus tried to get to his feet but the bear slammed into him with the force of a truck. This time when Rebus was tossed across the ground he seemed to be getting… smaller? Ford screamed his name.</p><p>The bear’s gaze snapped to him. Ford clutched his rock (knife, where was his knife?) as it huffed and barked at him. He risked a glance at the nearest tree. Bears were fast but clumsy, maybe he could gain ground in the thick forest. The animal itself kneaded and stomped at the torn-up ground.</p><p>Ford took a step back and it broke into a thundering run towards him.</p><p>“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”</p><p>A shape slammed into the bear with enough force to knock it off course, sending them both tumbling. A <em>human</em> shape in a raggedy red jacket. The bear’s jaws snapped down on the man’s arm and he screamed and punched it repeatedly in the face. Ford charged forward to bring down his rock on the bear’s head.</p><p>It thunked off like the creature’s skull was made of bricks, but it did manage to startle it long enough for the man to tear free and yank Ford away from the bear’s slashing claws. They tumbled to the ground together, the other man pulling Ford protectively behind him.</p><p>For just a split second, Ford caught a glimpse of a very familiar face. Then Stanley Filbrick Pines threw himself back at the bear.</p><p>But it was Rebus who made contact. Ford scrambled back from the thrashing creatures, ears roaring. The bear slammed Rebus (Stan?) into the ground and tore at his back. Rebus twisted around and latched onto its front. The bear bellowed and staggered back but this time Rebus would not be removed. He ripped his head back and took the bear’s throat with him.</p><p>Blood sprayed and the creature let out a gurgling groan. Rebus kept tearing at its throat as it sunk heavily to the ground like two tonnes of dead weight.</p><p>Emphasis on dead. The blood was no longer spurting but oozing down its coat, staining the ground beneath it.</p><p>Ford staggered to his feet, gasping for breath. “R-Rebus!”</p><p>The wolf slithered from the bear’s corpse, stumbled and hit the ground. Before Ford could rush to him Rebus was melting away; his form shrinking and white hands digging into the ground to push himself up. Stanley (older than Ford had last seen him, with longer hair and a haunted look in his eyes and far, far bloodier) staggered forward.</p><p>“<em>Stanley</em>?”</p><p>“Are ya hurt? Did it getcha?” Stan gasped, grabbing Ford’s face and turning it every which way to search for injuries. <em>Injuries</em>. Ford could be confused and terrified later. Right now his brother was bleeding out in front of him and he had to <em>think</em>.</p><p>“Stan. Stan!” Ford grabbed his twin’s hands off his face and wrenched them down. They were caked in blood. Whose blood, Ford didn’t know. “Stop moving! You’re bleeding, you’ll only make it worse.”</p><p>“Who fucking cares?” Stan spat. There was a wild look in his eyes even as he swayed on his feet. Now Ford had a moment to assess the injuries, and… he wanted to throw up.</p><p>Deep slashes raked down Stan’s torso, shredding his jacket and staining it black with blood. His head was bleeding heavily from some wound hidden in his hair, but even worse was his arm – a chunk of the bicep had been <em>torn out</em> and exposed flesh gleamed. In spots on his shoulder and back the skin had been ripped down to the bones.</p><p>“We have to get you to a hospital.” Ford tried to keep his voice level. Stan shook his head frantically.</p><p>“No – no no no hospital, I’m fine, I don’t need a hospital.”</p><p>“<em>For god’s sake Stanley</em>-”</p><p>Stan flinched back at the shout, and then at Ford’s reaching hands. He wrenched himself back with a hiss and staggered on shaky legs.</p><p>“<em>Don’t touch me</em>.” Stan’s voice deeper than it should have been, throaty and distorted. His eyes flashed with panic like that of a cornered animal. Oh, curse it all! Stanley was hurt and probably rather disorientated from adrenaline and blood loss. Disorientated animals had a nasty habit of lashing out.</p><p>Ford held out his hands. “Wait! I’m just-”</p><p>“No. You – you stay the fuck away from me.” Ford tried to step forward and Stan <em>growled</em> at him, a sound that humans shouldn’t be able to make. If he still had fur it would have been bristling. Ford pulled in a shaky breath and tried to compose himself.</p><p>“Stan – <em>Rebus </em>– whoever you are – I know you’re hurt, and angry, and you feel attacked. But I need you to <em>trust</em> me. I’m trying to help you.”</p><p>Stan growled again, but this time it was weaker, more uncertain. Ford held his hands out to show that he was unarmed.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>.”</p><p>Maybe it was the severe blood loss, but Ford liked to think it was his own sincerity that finally caused Stan to cave. His brother nodded tightly and allowed Ford to rush forward. Ford shucked off his jacket and pressed it to Stan’s arm, wincing at the pained hiss the touch incited.</p><p>“Come on. We can sort this out later. First I’m taking you to the hospital.”</p><p>“M’fine.” Stan grumbled. It was rougher than Ford remembered, more reminiscent of a canine rumble than was comfortable.</p><p><em>Canine</em>. Wolf but not. Rebus – Stan? – Rebus?</p><p>Ford shook his head quickly to clear it. Those were thoughts for <em>later</em>. He slipped an arm around his brother’s shoulder to support him as they limped out of the forest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey y'all! Thought you might like this next chapter (I DID leave you on a bit of a mean cliffhanger last time)</p><p>Some warning, I have my Year 12 exams this coming week so I probably won't be too active for the next couple days. Got TWO on Tuesday, yikes. Anyway, as always, hope you enjoy! And even if I'm too busy to respond to your lovely comments I read them and love them all!</p><p>Bye &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright!!! Exams over, now I can get back to my favourite pet project! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and thanks for all your lovely comments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was concerningly easy to lie about the circumstances of their hospital visit. All Ford had to say was ‘there was a bear-’ and the nurse was already taking Stan off of his hands, nodding like this was an everyday occurrence. No questions asked or police notified or rangers called.</p><p>Then again, this <em>was </em>Gravity Falls. That seemed to be a sentiment that never got tired.</p><p>The nurse also didn’t bat an eyelid at Stan’s jumpiness and apparent inability to communicate with anything other than body language – whether that was a symptom of shock, or of his… condition, remained a mystery. However, when Ford had last seen him Stan seemed to be relaxing somewhat, enough to mutter ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to the doctor’s questions.</p><p>Ford had only suffered some scrapes and bruises and minor puncture wounds, so once those had been cleaned and covered he was just… left in the waiting room. To wait, presumably.</p><p>Ford hated waiting.</p><p>And now he was stuck here in this practically empty sterile room, listening to a clock on the wall tick idly. <em>Tick, tick, tick. </em>It set his teeth on edge. But it couldn’t begin to distract from the complete and utter <em>confusion</em> swirling around in his skull.</p><p>Ford pulled his journal from his pocket with shaking hands and began jotting down information, in the hopes of organizing his mangled thoughts.</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><em>Rebus appears to be some sort of shape-shifter</em></li>
<li><em>Is also Stanley???</em></li>
<li><em>Why didn’t he tell me who he was?</em></li>
<li><em>Why is Stanley here at all?</em></li>
<li><em>Stanley is a human. But this isn’t a human.</em></li>
<li><em>By all accounts, it seems to be him.</em></li>
<li><em>Stan – Rebus? He protected me. Rebus has always been protective of me.</em></li>
<li><em>Stan was protective of me before he <strike>was kicked out</strike> left</em></li>
<li><em>Same person?</em></li>
<li><em>Why is he so scarred? What has he been doing these last nine years?</em></li>
</ul><p>
  
</p><p>Ford hesitated, seeing fresh wounds crossing old scars in his mind’s eye. They’d been visible under Rebus’s pelt and on Stan’s skin alike. Stan’s – pelt? Try as he might Ford couldn’t reconcile the two individuals in his head. There simply wasn’t enough data to come to any conclusions!</p><p>No, he could still work with this. The first step in the scientific method was having a question, coming up with a hypothesis, speculating on possible solutions before investigating. But where to start?</p><p>Stan certainly hadn’t come to Ford of his own free will, not with Ford rescuing him from being beaten to death and then locking him up. The thought of that cage made Ford feel quite ill, now. The thought of trapping his brother behind steel bars and studying him like any other specimen…</p><p>And for some reason, Stan hadn’t revealed himself, despite the fact that he seemed perfectly capable of it. But <em>why</em>? Ford resisted the urge to pull at his own hair in frustration. His life’s work was studying and quantifying the anomalous and unexplained, but somehow his brother’s decisions baffled him far more than any Manatour or gnome civilization ever could!</p><p>“Mister Pines?”</p><p>Ford startled at a nurse’s voice in front of him. He snapped his journal shut and hurriedly straightened his glasses.</p><p>“Yes, that’s me.”</p><p>“Your brother’s ready to be discharged.”</p><p>“Already?” Ford found himself saying. The nurse shot him a funny look.</p><p>“It… it’s been several hours.”</p><p>…oh. Ford may have been a little more lost in his thoughts than he’d realized. He flushed and cleared his throat. “Ah.”</p><p>The nurse roused himself and glanced down at the clipboard in his hands. “He sustained a lot of flesh wounds, but luckily no bones have been broken except for a few ribs. Those have been bound and he’s on pain medication for it, but there’s not much else we can do for those. He needed quite a few stitches on that arm, and – well, just about everywhere else too. That being said, he’s in surprisingly good shape. The doc cleared him to leave but you’re gonna have to pick up his pain meds and antibiotics from the front desk before you go on your way. Wouldn’t want injuries like that getting infected.”</p><p>“No.” Ford agreed uneasily. The nurse continued, talking about the importance of taking the full course of antibiotics and proper dosage of pain medication and how Stan shouldn’t be operating any heavy-duty machinery, which Ford filtered out because he already knew it all.</p><p>There was paperwork, and a prescription to get filled, and then <em>finally </em>a familiar figure approached, arguing loudly with a nurse about how ‘<em>no, he didn’t need a wheelchair thank you very much, he wasn’t an invalid’ </em>and ‘<em>he’d had worse, who cared about a little blood loss</em>’. He had recovered from his shock enough to be difficult, it seemed. Stan shut his mouth once he caught sight of Ford.</p><p>Ford scanned his brother quickly – he was dressed as well as he could be in shredded clothes over bandages and assorted wound-dressings. He was also obviously doped up on some kind of medication, given the slight slur to his words and his unsteady gait. It didn’t help that one arm was pinned to his chest by a crisp white sling.</p><p>The nurse sent Ford a harried look that seemed to say ‘he’s all yours’. Stanley shuffled on the spot and wouldn’t meet his eyes.</p><p>Ford sighed. “My car is just outside.”</p><p>Stan still quiet as he followed Ford to the car. It made him uneasy – Stan was meant to be loud and exuberant and <em>big</em>, not quiet and… small. He wouldn’t even meet Ford’s gaze. He stared out the window as Ford turned on the engine and pulled out onto the road.</p><p>Ford opened his mouth, realized he didn’t know what to say, and closed it again. They drove in silence.</p><p>They had just started on the winding forest path when Stan mumbled, “You can just drop me off here.”</p><p>Ford slammed on the brakes.</p><p>The wheels squealed and both brothers were jerked against their seatbelts as the car jerked to a halt on the thankfully abandoned road. Stan swore and rubbed his chest. Ah yes, broken ribs. Whoops.</p><p>“Shit, I’m <em>going</em>, okay-”</p><p>“You owe me answers.” Ford didn’t mean to sound so accusing. But good grief, he’d been kept in the dark for long enough. He twisted around in his seat to face his drugged-up brother. “Stanley, you are not leaving this car until you explain to me <em>exactly</em> what is going on.”</p><p>“Alright, jeez!”</p><p>“Rebus.” Ford said. It wasn’t quite a question. “The whole time, that was <em>you</em>?”</p><p>Stan grunted an affirmative, shoulders curling in.</p><p>“Just… how. Just how.”</p><p>“Apparently I’m a werewolf now.”</p><p>…well. Not the weirdest thing Ford had heard. “Why didn’t you <em>tell</em> me?”</p><p>“I didn’t wanna get kicked out!” Stan snapped. “Okay?”</p><p>Ford spluttered. “What on earth gave you-”</p><p>“Obviously that plan’s bumpkus now. Well, I had a good run. Later, Sixer.” Stan rambled as he fumbled for his door handle. Ford gaped.</p><p>“You’re <em>leaving</em>?”                       </p><p>“Well, yeah. No use overstayin’ my welcome.” Stan was still struggling one-handedly with the door. “Now, just – gotta get my stupid car – if it hasn’t been impounded – I’ll just get outta yer hair-”</p><p>“Stan!” Ford said loudly. Stan jumped. Ford sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not telling you to <em>leave</em>.”</p><p>Stan stared at him like a fish out of water. “But – you-”</p><p>“It is quite literally my life’s work to study the paranormal. You really think I would throw you <em>out</em>?”</p><p>Something Ford had said must have hit a cord with Stan, because he slumped and turned his face away. “…no. Not when you put it like that.”</p><p>Ford nodded, pleased that his brother was finally getting it. “Good. Let’s go back to my house, it’s – well, you already know where I live.” And wasn’t that strange? “I have several tests I’d like to run; and I’m going to need to hear about how this whole thing started. In my studies I’ve never come across conclusive proof of the existence of werewolves. Knowing how it came about would be very useful for classifying…”</p><p>He trailed off when he noticed the <em>click</em> of the car door and the fact that the seat next to him was empty.</p><p>The crunching of footsteps through leaf litter snapped him out of his shock. Ford undid his seatbelt hurried from his seat to follow his brother, who was currently making his way into the forest.</p><p>“<em>Stan</em>!”</p><p>Stan whipped around to snarl, “Fuck off, Ford!”</p><p>Ford blinked at him like a startled owl. “I… what?”</p><p>“Ya made yer point!” Stan’s words came somewhat garbled through fast-growing fangs. The glint of them sent a shiver down Ford’s spine. “M’no’ gonna be yer science ‘periment. ‘Tha mithtake thtaying here a’ all.”</p><p>“What on <em>earth </em>do you mean?” Ford demanded. Stan growled out an answer but it was lost in the distortion of his no-longer-human vocal cords. Stan threw up his hands and turned to stalk off into the woods.</p><p>“Stanley! Where are you <em>going</em>? <em>Stanley</em>!”</p><p>Ford shouted after him, but Stan had already disappeared.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Something’s wrong.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Everything’s wrong.</em>
</p><p>His head was stuffed with cotton wool. It made the world around him blurry as he stumbled deeper into the forest. The forest was Safe. Trees were Safe. They felt almost like home. Now that he was surrounded by them, he couldn’t even remember what he was running from. Or where he was running to…</p><p>He hadn’t been in this form for so long. He’d forgotten how <em>weak </em>humans were. His vision blurred and smeared (to be fair, that could be the lack of glasses), the cold nipped at his skin, his hearing was muffled as if he were underwater, all he could smell was dirt and sweat. He felt naked without his thick coat of fur, only jeans and his torn jacket chafing against raw skin. Everything was <em>wrong</em>. And that wasn’t even counting the oil-slick taste of wrongness that seemed to have pervaded his throat, making every rasping breath taste awful, like he was biting into that weird bear all over again.</p><p>But worse was how fucking <em>intense </em>this hurt felt. His chest pinched and it felt like his lungs were tied together with an elastic band, unable to inflate. He almost wanted to crack open his ribs to give them space to breathe. But… he couldn’t remember what he was even upset about. Why did hurt so much? What was he forgetting? <em>Think, think, think</em>.</p><p>He staggered and leaned heavily against a tree trunk. The light was all wrong, it glinted and glared and threatened to blind him. Was that his head buzzing, or had hornets encircled him? He swiped blindly at the air around him and his claws bit into bark. Why were his claws out…?</p><p>Ugh, it was getting hard to think and his mouth still tasted <em>awful</em>, like the air around that weird crystal, and the blood of the thing that had attacked them. His whole body was buzzing now. He tripped on not-so-human legs and fell forward into a more comfortable stance, spine shifting with a grinding <em>crunch</em>. The cloth binding his throbbing arm ripped and tore at the shifting of muscle and bones beneath it. This… this was wrong, he wasn’t in control here, what was going on? Where was Ford?</p><p><em>Ford. </em>Ford, who didn’t care for him. Who saw him as an oddity to be investigated, and later discarded. He had been stupid to think that his brother would want him around. That hurt, enough to make his eyes prickle. Of course Ford wouldn’t want to help him.</p><p>
  <em>(Yes he would. Brother is Safe.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(But he only likes not-me.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(Wait, that’s… me? Who am I…?)</em>
</p><p>Maybe it was easier to just let go.</p><p>Just for a little bit; let the hurt fade into numbness until it wasn’t quite as hard to bear anymore. Let himself forget the ache in his chest. Close his eyes and no longer be…</p><p>…who?</p><p>Someone who was already dead, just a ghost of pain and frustration.</p><p>It was all too easy to let go.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi again! You may notice that I've FINALLY set out how many chapters there will be in this fic. Took me long enough...</p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>When it was over he picked himself up and shook out his coat with a little whine. He was just so tired, and he ached all over; the taste of blood (both his and other) coated his tongue. His body felt weird and heavy. He wanted to go Home but he couldn’t remember which way it was. Besides, those rocks over there were wide and flat and sun-soaked. He would lie down for a while first.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He padded over to the rocks. They were covered in a thin sheen of moss and when he climbed onto one its warmth spread through his fur, cutting through the chill in the air. He stretched out to get as much of that warmth as he could. His eyelids felt heavy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He yawned, tasting blood as Weirdly Big teeth cut his tongue and lip. His own blood tasted like <strong>salt-metal-oil-squirrel-bear-rubber-burning</strong>. He yawned again and let the seeping warmth lull him into a light slumber.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Sound interrupted his dozing. He let out a quiet, rumbling growl of dissatisfaction. There was <strong>something</strong> nearby – he could hear the faint crunching of leaf litter, too loud to be the delicate movements of a squirrel or raccoon. He tensed to spring into action.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But – he tipped his head and pricked up his ears to hear better – that was a familiar gait. The nearby creature smelled of paper and ink, metal and coffee, sweat and distress.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was the voice that cinched it, calling through the forest and bringing back a memory of a name – <strong>his</strong> name. How silly he’d been, to forget his own name.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rebus tried to spring up to greet his packmate but his whole body was stiff and sore and it ached when he moved. He stretched gingerly. The patch of hurt on his shoulder and neck had opened up and dribbled a little blood that was now dried on his pelt and the rock. Ouch.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The voice called again, so Rebus stepped off his warm rock and limped towards the sound of clumsy footsteps. The creature that was <strong>pack-home-warmth-food-safety-protect</strong> spoke out when he came closer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rebus went over to greet his pack-brother by rubbing against his side. Brother let out a displeased sound. Rebus tilted his head curiously, trying to work out what he’d done wrong. Brother was making noises and he sounded irritated. He crouched down to look at Rebus’s face. Rebus licked his nose. Brother spluttered the way he did sometimes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He made some more noises and said Rebus’s name. Rebus pricked up his ears attentively.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>…why did Brother suddenly smell sharply of fear?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Ford should have known something was wrong when Stan came to him. After storming off like that, why would he suddenly jump up to greet Ford like an old friend? Acting innocent, like Ford hadn’t spent the last hour combing the woods trying to <em>find</em> him. Ford crossed his arms and shot his approaching brother (brother? Werewolf? Dog?) a glare. It probably would have been more effective if he weren’t sweating and red in the face from exertion. He was pretty sure there were some twigs in his hair too. But that was beside the point!</p><p>“<em>There</em> you are!” He snapped as the wolf pushed through bushes to limp over and rub again his side in greeting – obviously playing up his injuries, because even those wounds shouldn’t cause him to trip and stumble like his paws were too big for his body. “<em>Stanley</em>.” Stan tilted his head at the tone as if he were puzzled, ears perked. “For god’s sake Stan, stop playing dog. You’re not fooling anyone.”</p><p>Stan… didn’t react at all. Ford huffed in frustration and crouched down to be at eye-level, since Stan was too stubborn to face him in human form.</p><p>“Now, I hope you have a good explanation for making me traipse around the-”</p><p>The werewolf licked his nose.</p><p>Ford spluttered in both surprise and disgust, bringing his hands up and rocking back on his heels to avoid any follow-up licks. A wet nose snuffled at his arms.</p><p>“Gross! <em>Rebus</em>!”</p><p>Oh, curse it. Ford would have to train himself out of the habit of using that name. But the assault on his person had ceased, so he squinted from behind the safety of his arms to see if Stan was sulking.</p><p>Stan was watching him attentively (for once). But his eyes… they seemed duller than they used to be. The amber-gold colour hadn’t changed but they lacked the sharp clarity they had once possessed.</p><p>“…Rebus?” Ford tried. Stan perked up, tail wagging slightly. “Stanley, what… what are you doing?”</p><p>Stan continued to look oblivious. Ford let out a nervous little laugh.</p><p>“Stan, whatever game you’re playing, it’s not funny. Just drop it now, okay?” Stan tilted his head. “Stop it. You scared me, good job, you can drop the act now.”</p><p>Ford wiped his wet face with the back of his hand (ew, saliva had gotten on his cheek too) and was about to continue speaking when he noticed that his hand had come away red.</p><p>Why was there <em>blood</em> on his face?</p><p>Was that blood dripping down Stan’s muzzle? His teeth seemed larger and more jagged, slicing his tongue when it lolled out, but Stan didn’t seem to feel the pain. And… now that Ford was <em>looking</em>, the wolf was obviously bulkier than he’d been before. His burly chest was laced with scabbing cuts and slashes and the fur around his neck and shoulders had thickened into a patchy mane. The fur all <em>over</em> was patchy. Ford couldn’t tell if that was from the injuries or otherwise.</p><p>Not as obviously Other as the squirrel or the bear had been, but…</p><p>“…oh no.” Ford reached out unsteadily to touch Stan’s back, nearly snatching his hand back at the weirdly coarse sensation. Once-soft fur was now stiff, wiry. The skin beneath it felt tough and ridged. “<em>No</em>. You <em>didn’t</em>.”</p><p>Stan couldn’t have been exposed to the deformed crystal in the hour since Ford had last seem him. It was on the other side of the forest! No, there had to be some other explanation as to why he was…</p><p>…blood.</p><p>Yes, but – could it be that simple? Ford hadn’t even <em>considered</em> if the effects could be passed on through exchange of bodily fluid. But Stan had bitten the bear, probably swallowed some of its blood during the fight. The squirrel, too. It would be a low-level exposure, not as severe as if he’d been exposed to the crystal’s light directly, but it might be enough to produce symptoms. The uneven growth, dulled sense of pain, the aggressiveness – or maybe just cognitive deterioration?</p><p>Squirrels generally did not attack humans because they were small and weak and could be easily killed. They were <em>prey</em> animals. Ford had assumed that the mutated one had leapt at him because of some enhanced aggressiveness, but what if its cognitive processes were so affected that it lacked the sense to know otherwise? If it didn’t <em>know</em> to be scared?</p><p>That would explain its erratic and unusually not-people-shy behaviour. Perhaps the bear’s, too, the creature lacking the sense to flee from a losing battle that had turned against it. But what could those effects mean for a sentient being?</p><p>What did they mean for <em>Stanley</em>?</p><p>Stan nosed him, knocking Ford onto his rear end and breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts simultaneously. And then he was being squashed by the huge creature as it tried to stick its nose into his jacket pocket. Ford choked on a hysterical laugh and shoved Stan away – or tried to, at least, managing to give himself enough wriggle room to reach into his pocket and pull out what the werewolf had been searching for.</p><p>Ah. A strip of jerky, a road snack hastily grabbed on the way out that morning, back when everything made sense. He offered it numbly to Stan, who snapped it up with a sharp <em>clack</em> of teeth. The casual display of bone-crushing force made Ford wince.</p><p>He was… <em>very</em> lucky that Stan had seemingly retained some memories of being Rebus. He seemed to trust Ford at the very least. Ford shivered at the prospect of being faced with a wary, defensive creature in possession of that brute power and savageness – he could have been mauled or killed by his senseless brother. He wouldn’t be any help then. If that were the case Stan would likely never regain his humanity; he may be hunted down by the locals and killed, or captured and subjected to experiments by some government agency, or-</p><p>“<em>No</em>. This – I can work with this.” Ford forced himself to take a deep breath, forced his trembling hands to fold in his lap. Everything would be fine. Everything would be <em>fine</em>, because he was a scientist and he could <em>fix </em>this. He’d figured out the cure to zombification, he could figure out the cure to this mutation, and Stan-</p><p>Stan was licking his hair.</p><p>Ford spluttered and lifted his hands to fend the werewolf off (this seemed to be a repeating pattern). “Stan! <em>No</em>. You’re getting blood in my hair! Get – <em>ugh</em>. Go groom something else.”</p><p>He finally managed to extract himself, brushing off his coat and cringing at the state of his hair.</p><p>“I already miss when you had self-control.” He sighed at the blank look he received. “Come on, Stan – I’ll fix you up and get you back to normal, alright? And then we can yell at each other all we want.”</p><p>Ford started walking. The hulking creature who stood easily as high as his ribs, with massive bone-cracking paws and claws that scratched the ground and muscles that rolled under thick, bristly fur, followed tamely after him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ooh, we're nearing the end now. Have a partly-fluffy chapter from the POV of one mutant wolf!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="MsoNormal">
  <em>Brother usually spent hours in the Underground Place tinkering with his books and machines and colourful vials. It made him happy, which made Rebus happy, so for all its too-clean-ness Rebus quite liked the Underground Place. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> He didn’t like it much right now. Since they’d come Home Brother hadn’t <b>left</b> the place, fretting and working himself into exhaustion until he fell asleep at his workbench, only to snap awake a few hours later and begin the cycle anew. The air tasted sour with distress. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Rebus didn’t know why his kin was so out of sorts, but the sensation of being pushed aside made him… uneasy. As did watching Brother work himself down to the bone. He tried inviting Brother to play, but his stubborn packmate refused to be distracted. Brother only got up to play when Rebus snatched his little machine for a game of chasey. And even then, after a few laps around the room, Rebus realized that the shouts were of desperation rather than fun. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> When Brother finally caught up and wrestled the not-toy from him, he tried to stick Rebus with a needle. Rebus stood still and allowed his blood to be drawn because Brother seemed upset, and maybe compliance would cheer him up where play had failed. Up close, Brother’s eyes were swollen and bloodshot. His breath smelled of hunger, the tang of not-eating that Rebus knew quite well. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> …maybe Brother was sick? Sometimes when Rebus was sick he didn’t feel hungry, even if he hadn’t eaten in days! He was pretty sure that eating was supposed to be good for sick people, though he couldn’t recall how he knew that. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> If Brother wouldn’t feed himself, Rebus would! Once the blood-drawing was over Rebus shook out his coat and padded upstairs. Brother usually ate food from this – this kitchen, right? He often ate from cans stored in the top of the cupboard. Rebus jumped up on his hind legs to try and paw open the cabinet door. When that failed, he gnawed at the edges to pry it open. Splinters stuck between his teeth but it was working! He finally managed to stick his head in and close his jaws around one of the cans inside. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><em> Rebus <b>tried</b> to be gentle, but the can crushed and burst open when he gripped it. Strong-smelling slop ( </em> soup, it’s tomato soup) <em>splattered across the kitchen floor and Rebus’s snout. He snorted at the sudden explosion.</em></p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> That wasn’t how food was supposed to act, right? </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><em> Rude. This stuff was gross and fresh meat was better anyway, so Rebus shouldered through the door. It had been closed but it <b>crunched</b> and didn’t stay closed when he pressed his full weight against it ( </em> whoops, Sixer’s gonna need a new lock). <em>Once outside, Rebus went hunting.</em></p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> There were squirrels around. Rebus decided to leave those alone. You could never trust squirrels. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> He tracked a herd of deer. Unfortunately, when he got close, his unusually big paws gave him away and the deer startled. However, Rebus was faster than them. He lunged at a straggler and snapped at its heels to separate it from the herd, and then he was in the perfect position to strike. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> He sprang forward to pin it to the ground. Rebus misjudged his strength, however, and ended up dashing its brains out. Whoops. Skulls were more fragile than he remembered. He would have to be careful about wrestling with his pack-brother. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> It took <b>ages</b> dragging the deer through the woods. By the time Home came into sight it was nearly dark. He struggled to get his prize through the front door but the thing’s stiff legs wouldn’t fit through the narrow entranceway. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Lucky, Brother found him before Rebus had to figure out how to drag the deer inside. Brother seemed… distressed? He smelled of fear and rushed over when he caught sight of Rebus. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Ah – Rebus <b>had</b> been gone for several hours, maybe Brother had just been worried about him? Since he seemed more worried than angry Rebus let him fret and, when his kin finally calmed down, nudged him towards the deer proudly. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> ‘Look! I killed this for you! Now you can eat!’ </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> It took several more nudges for Brother to realize that the gift was for him. His eyes got all wet and he clapped a hand over his mouth and – whimpered? Rebus nosed him worriedly. Had he done something wrong? </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Then Brother hugged him, which just made Rebus even more confused. The words being said were vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite remember what they meant. Something about ‘miss’ and ‘take-care’ and ‘stubborn’ and ‘come back’. Come back from where? He was right there! He licked Brother’s face to prove it until his packmate gave a watery laugh and pushed him away. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> When Brother rose he went to the kitchen (Rebus tucked his ears down in shame at the scolding he received for the mess) and put food in two bowls. <b>Two</b> bowls! Rebus wagged his tail happily and dug into his food when he was sure Brother was eating. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> …maybe Brother didn’t like deer. Oh well. He was eating now and that was the important thing! </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> When Brother was finished he went back down to the Underground Place, but that was okay. Rebus went with him to keep him company. </em>
</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p class="MsoNormal">
    
  </p>
</div><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Rebus was awakened from his nap by a <b>crash</b>. He blinked his eyes open sleepily to find the source of the noise. Brother had stormed away from his workbench and sent his seat clattering across the floor. Rebus was glad he’d been napping by the exit rather than near the desk. Being hit by a chair seemed like a rude way to be woken up. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Pack-brother threw a book against the wall and screamed. Rebus glared at the paper thing that had upset his brother. His brother tended to throw a lot of things against the wall these days. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> What he <b>didn’t </b>often do was sink to the floor and start sniffling. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> It made Rebus disconcerted. He didn’t understand why Brother’s eyes leaked and he curled up on the floor, occasionally hiccupping or whimpering. Rebus curled up next to him and licked salty water off his face, trying to comfort Brother with his closeness. Brother wrapped his arms around Rebus’s neck and buried his face in his fur. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> After a while Brother sniffed and sat up. Rebus leaned against him comfortingly. They sat like that for a long time before Brother rose and went back to his workbench. </em>
</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p class="MsoNormal">
    
  </p>
</div><p class="MsoNormal">
  
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> They ate together; Brother still wasn’t very good at remembering to feed himself so Rebus watched him prepare food, just to be sure. Brother laughed at him, usually, the ever-present sadness lifting from his face just a little. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Today, however, laughter wasn’t the only unusual noise to break the quiet. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> The grumble of an engine made Rebus stiffen, ears pricked for further sounds. Brother, who was clattering around in the cupboard with the door Rebus had chewed through, called to him curiously. Rebus was sure… </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><em> There! The click of a car door and the murmur of a woman’s voice! Did that mean the people were back – Brother’s friends, the ones who smelled of hay and grease and family? Rebus jumped up and rushed through the ajar ( </em> still broken<em>) door to greet them. He’d <b>missed</b> them and their smiles!</em></p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> A car <b>had</b> parked on front of the house, but as Rebus trotted over, the person who stepped out was not a friend. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><b> <em> No </em> </b> <em> , not a friend. Rebus stopped short. He didn’t <b>know</b> the man – with his bulky frame and downturned mouth and sunglasses glinting in the sunlight – but something about him screamed <b>danger</b>. Rebus’s fur stood on end as he regarded the intruder. The man stared back at him and the intensity of that gaze made Rebus prickle. </em></p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Brother called out to Rebus but he, too, stopped short when he laid eyes on the strange man. A woman was climbing out of the car too and she was smiling and friendly but it did nothing to divert Rebus’s attention from the threat. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> “Ma, Pa.” Brother coughed out. Rebus recognised the words, why did he recognise the words? Why did they send a chill through him? </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> There was a tang of fear in the air. His brother was nervous of this man – and that was all the confirmation Rebus needed to label this person a threat. How dare he – how <b>dare</b> he walk into Rebus’s territory, stare at Rebus with that gaze, <b>go near Rebus’s brother</b>. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> A chest-deep snarl rumbled through him. He peeled his lips back, fangs on display as he slunk in between Brother and the interloper. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ford had not been having a good week.</p><p>Well, he was using the term ‘week’ loosely, since he wasn’t actually sure how much time had passed. The last few days and nights had been a blur of calculations and experiments and frustration. Ford had been <em>sure</em> that the mutation (or Warping, as he’d mentally dubbed it, for convenience) would be simple to reverse. Theoretically, it should be! But in practice there were so many variables to account for – not only did he have to know exactly how the physical mutations came about in order to restore living tissue back to its original state with no side effects, but there was the cognitive aspect to consider as well. There was no use restoring Stan to his human form if his mind was still Warped.</p><p>The former of the two issues was all but solved. Ford had managed to reverse-engineer the mutation process physically – the insects he had caught and exposed to the Warped crystal fragments, then dunked in hastily-made serum, had returned to their original forms with no permanent physical or genetic alterations. However, they still exhibited behaviour consistent with the Warping and atypical for unaffected members of their species. So even if Ford did try curing his brother Stan still wouldn’t be himself. Most likely Ford would have a wolf freaking out because it suddenly had a human body.</p><p>Ford had several pinprick bite marks from the Warped moth that was his last test subject (apparently when exposed to the Warped crystal flecks, moths developed spearhead-like mouthpieces and were unafraid to use them). But since being cured the stubborn insect still held no fear of Ford and had tried (unsuccessfully) to stab him with its now-harmless mouthpiece. That was, until Ford accidentally stepped on it. It wasn’t his fault! Because it was still stuck in a Warped mindset it couldn’t comprehend that its body was once again light enough to fly, so once it had escaped from its jar it had decided to crawl across the floor. Was Ford supposed to watch his every step for stray insects?</p><p>In any case, he was left with one part of the equation solved and no idea how to do the rest.</p><p>During the standstill in which Ford wasn’t sure where to turn, he had spent some time trying to locate Stan’s car. Stan had mentioned something about his car being around here somewhere and Ford <em>knew</em> it was a shot in the dark but he had to at least <em>try</em>.</p><p>He had contacted the local law enforcement department to see if there had been any cars found abandoned around town in the recent months. Luckily they had records of an abandoned car being picked up in the woods some time back. Apparently, since the car had no registration and thus no one registered to own it, it had been sitting idle in the car park of the police station for the past few months. They played cards on the hood. Gravity Falls police were <em>weird</em>.</p><p>But when Ford brought the car back to his house (through less-than-legal means) Stan had just looked at it with those dull eyes and then looked back at Ford inquisitively. Of course he didn’t recognise it. He couldn’t even recognise his own <em>name</em>. Ford had been stupid to hope that it would work.</p><p>So the car was left parked behind the house while Ford went back to his research. A few things may have been thrown around out of frustration.</p><p>Ford had always prided himself on being scientifically-minded, but right now he was strongly resisting the urge to smash things and shout about how it wasn’t <em>fair</em>. Stan shouldn’t just be watching with blank yellow eyes. He should be angry or cheering Ford on or punching him in the face or something. He should be <em>Stan</em>. Instead he was stuck as some animal and the more Ford thought about it, the more he realized that it was <em>his fault</em>.</p><p>The wolf that wasn’t quite Ford’s brother anymore didn’t seem to realize that, though. Had instead tried to take care of him, bringing back prey like Ford was a helpless pup, refusing to eat until Ford did, snarling furiously at any trespassing creatures that came near the house. (From the pile of blood and feathers Ford had found outside a while ago it seemed that the griffins from earlier had come back. They didn’t get very close.)</p><p>Stan had even tried to help Ford in shifting his ‘gift’, though they seemed to have different ideas of where the deer carcass should go and it had devolved into another tug-of war – which, thankfully, ended with the deer being disposed of. Ford didn’t know he would have done if the thing had made it into his house.</p><p>Ford wasn’t sure that he deserved the care and affection. When he’d first realized what was happening he’d been moved to tears.</p><p>But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that even in this state, Stan’s instincts were to take care of Ford over everything. It didn’t matter that the attention was familiar – because for the last few months, even when Ford had no idea, his brother had <em>still</em> been watching over him and dragging him out of trouble. It didn’t <em>matter</em> that this made a lump rise in his throat and filled him with a heavy, itching guilt because Stan had been there for him and Ford had not for many, many years.</p><p>No, all that <em>did</em> matter was curing Stan; which led to Ford neglecting the piling-up mail and voice messages on his answering machine in favour of working on a cure.</p><p>In hindsight, he really should have listened to those voice messages.</p><p>Ford froze mid-step at the scene unfolding before him. The last time he’d seen his parents had been a year ago, the family gathering together to celebrate Shermie and Rebecca’s anniversary back in California. Family <em>never</em> came to Ford’s house. What were they doing here?</p><p>“Ford! How ya doin, sweetie?” Ma called out cheerfully as she climbed out of the car. Pa already stood on the beaten dirt path with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. He spared Ford a gruff nod.</p><p>“Ma, Pa.” Ford forced out. “What – what are you doing here?”</p><p>“Too busy to pick up the phone, as usual.” Pa muttered. Ma tutted and straightened to fix her hair.</p><p>“Lay off ‘im Filbrick, you know how excited our Stanford gets about his work! Ford honey, we called and left a message to tell you we’d be around. Y’see, we were drivin’ down to visit one of yer dad’s old business partners and I thought ‘that’s near where Stanford lives!’ So we decided to stop by for a visit, see how this science gig ‘a yours is goin’.”</p><p>Pa lit his cigarette and took a puff – the bitter scent of smoke drifting across the yard made Ford swallow hard. The glasses hid his eyes but Ford was sure that his father’s gaze was fixed on Stan, judging by the way the wolf was bristling defensively. An irrational fear flooded through Ford. Their father had been spitting mad since the science fair, how would he react to seeing Stan again…?</p><p>Except Filbrick wouldn’t know that the wolf facing him was his own son.</p><p>Still, of all the times to visit, this had to be one of the worst! Ford was unbelievably grateful that Stan’s car was around the back. If their parents saw it they would ask all sorts of questions like ‘where is Stan’ and <em>how</em> was Ford supposed to explain this mess? And to their <em>parents</em> of all people. He clenched his fists as his breathing quickened, trying to force himself to calm down and think rationally. What was he supposed to do? Turn them away? Waste precious time exchanging pleasantries instead of working on curing his brother?</p><p>Ford was spared from having to speak because a low snarl rumbled out. Pa stiffened, and Ford was suddenly reminded that it was possible the negative feelings between Stan and their father ran both ways.</p><p>Stan slunk in front of him, hackles raised and lips peeled back to display sharp yellow teeth. Pa recoiled from the threat display.</p><p>“Stanford, get yer animal down!”</p><p>“Oh – I’m sorry – he doesn’t really like people-” Ford stammered out, trying to grab Stan’s fur, but the wolf sidestepped him and slunk closer towards Pa. Ma let out a nervous little squeal.</p><p>“That – yer dog’s pretty big, Ford. Looks almost like a wolf.”</p><p>“Yes, he, um-”</p><p>“Look at you! Yer letting the animal walk all over ya!” Pa glowered at the approaching wolf. He <em>really</em> shouldn’t be doing that, why was he doing that? It was only making Stan more aggressive and that <em>wasn’t good</em> he was <em>dangerous</em>, he didn’t know what he was doing-</p><p>If he did know, would he act any differently?</p><p>“You oughta teach it who’s boss.” Pa continued. Stan let out another low growl and that was <em>it.</em></p><p>“<em>Rebus</em>! Heel!”</p><p>Stan hesitated at Ford’s shout, fur still bristling but no longer stalking forward. Ford strode over to grab a handful of that fur and give him a sharp pull away from their father, thanking any and all deities that his brother actually <em>listened</em> to him like this. Stan reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled back. Ford rushed to stammer out an explanation, not daring to release his hold on the werewolf.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Pa. Rebus is a… a wolf-hybrid that I’ve been studying. He’s quite distrustful of strangers.”</p><p>“Ya need ta beat that outta him.” Pa said gruffly.</p><p>Ma gave a strained chuckle. “Ah, I reckon Stanford knows what’s best here, what with all his research on the thing. But Ford honey, are ya sure he’s safe?”</p><p>“Yes, of course, Rebus would never hurt me.” Ford kept on tugging Stan back, the wolf complying with a dissatisfied rumble. “I apologize. I’ve been busy with a project, I didn’t realize I would be having company.” Distract them, shift their attention away from Stan. “I – I have some tea inside, would you like to join me? I’ll put Sta- <em>Rebus</em> in the shed.”</p><p>Pa shook his head and stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. “Lemme show ya how to handle a real dog. Ya keep treating it like that and it’s just gonna keep walking all over you. Ya gotta show it who’s boss.”</p><p>“No, Pa, please-” But the man had already strode up and grabbed Stan by the scruff of his neck, reaching the other hand around to grab his muzzle and hold him tight.</p><p>Stan reacted.</p><p>Ford yelped as he was smacked in the face by an explosion of wolf. He staggered back more from the shock than the pain. Ma let out a shriek. Stan wrenched himself free and snapped at Pa’s hand, which was yanked back and only barely avoided the clashing of teeth.</p><p>Pa growled and aimed a kick at Stan’s face, but the wolf bit down on his boot and yanked, sending him sprawling on his back. Stan sprang forward onto the burly man’s chest. Ford jumped in to grab those jaws before Stan could snap down, holding them shut with all the strength he had and ramming his shoulder into the wolf, trying desperately to shove him away.</p><p>“Stop it! Get <em>off </em>him!”</p><p>It was useless, of course – Ford’s strength was no match for that of a Warped, furious werewolf – but it worked all the same. Stan backed off, shaking his head to free himself from Ford’s hands, eyes wide and fur bristling but looking more confused than enraged now. Ford lifted his hands and placed himself between Stan and their father, who was sitting up and spluttering furiously as Ma rushed to him.</p><p>Stan made a move to growl at the man. Ford raised his voice.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>This time Stan growled at <em>him</em>.</p><p>“<em>No</em>.” Ford snapped. Stan had the grace to look ashamed.</p><p>There was shuffling behind him as Pa climbed to his feet, muttering under his breath. Ford didn’t dare shift his eyes away from the werewolf as he spoke to his parents.</p><p>“I think it would be best if you came back another day. I’ll – I’ll be sure to check my answering machine more often, so I can lock Rebus away in advance the next time you come.”</p><p>“Now you listen here, Stanford-”</p><p>“Just<em> leave</em>.”</p><p>There was more grumbling and cursing, but Ma’s fearful voice finally persuaded Pa to get in the car. Ford didn’t relax until the rumble of its engine had faded into the forest and he was, once again, left alone with his brother. He slumped with a sigh.</p><p>“Well. That could have gone better.”</p><p>Padding footsteps approached. Ford squinted resentfully at a rather confused-looking Stan.</p><p>“Since when was attacking our father a good idea? Sure, I don’t imagine you have many positive feelings towards him…” Ford sighed again and pulled his glasses off to rub them clean on his sleeve. “I suppose he wasn’t exactly friendly, but our father has never been friendly! Surely you remember that?”</p><p>Or not, as the case was. Ford huffed to himself.</p><p>“Well, in any case, I’m sorry for shouting at you. But I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t try to turn Pa into a chew toy.” He groaned. “Stanley, what am I going to <em>do</em> with you?”</p><p>Stan, evidently accepting that he wasn’t in too much trouble, leaned against Ford’s side. He kept his gaze trained on the road. Stan’s posture was still defensive, as if wary for Pa’s return.</p><p>Pa couldn’t have come off as such a threat, could he? Sure he was imposing and struck a generally intimidating figure but he wouldn’t actually <em>hurt </em>them.</p><p>Well. That hadn’t always been true for Stan, at least. Ford could still remember the horrible day they’d been playing in their father’s shop and accidentally knocked over an expensive vase. Stan had jumped to claim responsibility and when Ford saw him again that evening, the usually rambunctious boy was sporting several new bruises and sans a tooth.</p><p>Maybe Stan still held a wariness of the man since then, even in his wolf form. But that was years ago. Pa hadn’t hit him since then, right?</p><p>Ford shook his head to clear it. Like so many things, that didn’t <em>matter</em> right now. What mattered was curing his brother. And Ford still had to figure out how to do that! It wasn’t like he could just show Stan a few pictures and hey presto, his memories and cognitive function would return!</p><p>…actually, if Stan had recognised their father, that might be helpful. Ford had been acting under the assumption that Stan had only retained a few recent memories – namely, the memories of living with Ford under the name of Rebus. But if Stan had recognised their father in some aspect it would imply that those older memories were still there, at least in some form. Perhaps, if the memories had only been covered over instead of completely overwritten, they could still be accessed.</p><p>Maybe, with just the right mixture of chemicals – Ford could add that to the formula, of course – the subject’s mind would be more elastic. If Ford could manage that then maybe the mind would be able to re-write the Warped neural pathways and restore itself back to its original state, no extra meddling needed. The stimulant would essentially act as a booster shot to jumpstart the process. Theoretically of course, but…</p><p>Ford snapped to attention, mind already working a mile a minute at the prospect of a having new approach to investigate.</p><p>“Come along, Stan, I need to find more test subjects to work on. Rats have fairly advanced minds, correct? And they shouldn’t grow so large as to be a threat during the Warping process. Not as much as you, anyway. Now, I wonder if there are any in the shed… and <em>please</em> don’t eat them this time if I manage to find any.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Brother was chasing Rebus again! It was so much fun darting around the Underground Place, staying just ahead of the reaching hands. Brother was slower and clumsier than Rebus, but he was definitely trying, all red in the face from shouting and running. He was carrying a little vial of something that he seemed <strong>very</strong> insistent that Rebus have. Ha! Only if Brother could catch him!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Brother cheated by grabbing a sheet off his workbench and throwing it over Rebus. Rebus got lost in the fabric. It forced him to stay still long enough for Brother to get a hold of his fur, voice scolding.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Brother grabbed his jaw. Rebus tried to shake free but the vial was already being upended into his mouth – the bitter liquid made his lips pucker. He whined and tried to back away but Brother clamped a hand over his mouth and nose, forcing him to swallow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rebus did, when he had no choice between that and choking. When he got the awful stuff down Brother let him go and Rebus backed away, hacking and sending his packmate a dirty look. Brother didn’t even look ashamed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rebus picked up his head to walk away, resolving not to play with a dirty cheater, but – why was the world spinning so much? His legs wouldn’t support him, what with how the floor seemed to be surging up and down. He staggered and collapsed onto his stomach with an <strong>oof</strong>.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>...that wasn't good.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>OKAY! I'm on a bit of a high from writing this so fast but I'm EXCITED for it, gosh darn it! We're nearing the end, only the epilogue to go after this. Hope you guys enjoy!</p><p>(also let me know if you see any typos)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Not – not right. Something was wrong, familiar but not familiar and his head was hurting now, his teeth ached and everything ached. His body felt weird, why was it shaking? Why did he hurt? Where was he again?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He ached <strong>all over</strong>, like something was gnawing at him. The bone-deep aching seemed to touch every fibre of his being. It swelled in his jaw, where it seemed to throb alongside his heartbeat. He could hear the <strong>crunching</strong> as bones shifted and reshaped. He let out a pitiful whine.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“…with me? Can you…?”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>He hadn’t been expecting an answer to his whimpering. Who was – why? Why was he? No, wait, wrong words. <strong>Where</strong> was he? He felt like he was struggling to wake from a year-long sleep. Wasn’t sure he wanted to wake up, with the pain radiating through him, intensifying for a moment in his back as cracks and pops shuddered through him. But slowly, slowly, that pain was starting to recede, clearing space for other sensations to filter through.</em>
</p><p><em>There was </em>hard floor under <em>his hands. </em>Well, kind-of<em>-hands, with</em> <em>long</em> claws that bit into the wood grain. <em>He could feel air rasping</em> in his throat with every breath that shuddered through him. <em>Something pressed a steady weight against his</em> shoulders, large and warm and grounding. A pair of hands steadying him. Something to focus on. He counted the fingers in his head. One, two, three, four, five, six. Six? He counted again, just to be sure.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>It’s okay, I’m right here</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He knew that voice – lower and a little more prim than he remembered from their childhood, but still familiar. The sense of <em>pack-home-warmth-food-safety-protect. Brother.</em> Brother was there. Brother had given him something awful-tasting, and-</p><p>“Stan? Can you understand me?”</p><p>He tried to respond but his mouth was dry and only another gasp of air escaped him. How did you speak again? He swallowed hard, testing the muscles that felt like they hadn’t been used in ages. Maybe they hadn’t. When he finally did manage to make a sound it was rough and strained, more of a whine than anything. Maybe it was just the wheeze of his Shift finishing, depositing him firmly as a confused human kneeling on the floor. His claws had shrunk into uneven, dirty nails.</p><p>“Just – just nod if you can understand me, okay? Can you nod?”</p><p>He swallowed again, forcing out sounds through alien human vocal chords. It came out as a croak. “<em>Ford</em>?”</p><p>“Yes!” Someone – Brother – <em>Stanford</em> shouted. Too loud, it hurt his sensitive ears and made him wince. He groaned and brought a clumsy hand up to rub at his throbbing temple. Ugh, either he was hungover or partly in wolf mode or <em>both</em>. Probably both, seeing as he couldn’t quite remember where he was or how he’d gotten there.</p><p>“Didja… get the number plate of the car that hit me?”</p><p>The words felt odd and disjointed – rusty in his mouth – but they were familiar and made his brother laugh, so he counted that as a win. His memory was pretty blurry, but he was pretty sure that his brother hadn’t laughed in a while. No, Ford had been so frustrated and upset, trying to find some…</p><p>…cure.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>“How do you feel?” Ford was asking him. “Besides hit-by-a-car, of course.”</p><p>“Well, I can count up to six and remember yer name, so I’m gonna go with ‘better than before’.” He rasped. With each word his sentences were coming easier, falling into a well-worn pattern of practice. He hadn’t spoken in… how long? Why hadn’t he been speaking?</p><p>There was movement, and he was blinking over a shoulder – there were arms wrapped tight around him. A hug? Why was Ford <em>hugging</em> him?</p><p>Wait, no, Ford often hugged him. Hugged Rebus. Who was him, who was also-kinda-not-quite Stan?</p><p>The final puzzle piece clicked into place, and Stan groaned.</p><p>“I turned into a goddamned <em>lapdog</em>.”</p><p>The last few weeks were a blur – he wasn’t quite sure it wasn’t all a dream, but he remembered glimpses of it. Of having the mental capacity of a spoon. Napping while Brother worked. A sense of <em>protect-danger-keep-guard-fight</em>. God, he hoped he hadn’t attacked anyone Ford liked.</p><p>“Yes. You were Warped.” Ford pulled away to dive into techno-babble, one hand still on Stan’s shoulder. Stan looked around blearily at their surroundings – Ford’s lab, it looked like. The last thing he remembered was being in the forest, but…</p><p>He pulled his shredded jacket closer around himself and shivered.</p><p>“Do you remember the bear that attacked us?” Ford continued. “You must have ingested some of its blood, because you were affected by the same substance that mutated it. One of the symptoms I’ve isolated is cognitive deterioration, which explains why you were stuck in a simpler mindset. That was the main challenge to reverse. Luckily I was able to figure it out in the end.”</p><p>“’Course ya did.” Stan mumbled out. Ford was the smart one, of <em>course</em> he would be able to fix him. Ford let out a little, relieved-sounding laugh, eyes fixed on Stan’s arm as he ran his six fingers over an old scar. At least, it looked old, seeing as it wasn’t a fresh wound anymore. Stan didn’t remember getting it. It looked like some huge bear had taken a chunk out of his arm or something.</p><p>…oh yeah, the bear.</p><p>“It did take me quite some time to develop a cure. You aren’t the most cooperative subject, Stanley – at one point you climbed onto the roof and then were unable to get down for several hours. I thought your fear of heights had faded since childhood?”</p><p><em>Being dangled over the edge of a five-story building helps with bringing back old phobias</em>. Stan very carefully did not say that out loud. Oh, look at that, his brain was working well enough to recall memories of his escapades with Rico’s gang. Whoopee.</p><p>Another shiver ran through him. It was cold down here – or at least it felt that way, given Stan’s sudden lack of fur. The only warmth came from Ford. The nerd was constantly in motion as he babbled, putting a warm hand on Stan’s arm or touching his shoulder or grabbing his face to tilt it from side to side and study his eyes in the light. If Stan didn’t know any better he would have thought his brother was <em>fretting</em>.</p><p>Fretting over his latest lab rat, maybe. Was that why Ford had – had <em>fixed</em> him? Because Stan was more useful with his brain intact?</p><p>No, Ford was probably just feeling guilty about kicking him out while he was in that state. (And of course Ford would get rid of him, Stan was nothing but trouble, always had been, the only thing he was good at was fucking things up.) So, he found a cure. Undo the damage, fix Stan up before kicking him to the curb, so the scientist could walk away with a clean conscience.</p><p>Well, screw that. Ford might as well have just booted him out then and there, when Stan’s head was full of bees and he couldn’t remember his own name. At least then he wouldn’t have had to <em>know</em> that he was being rejected yet again.</p><p>As if rejection was something new. Heh, story of his life.</p><p>“Stanley, pay attention.” Stan felt a hand lightly tapping his cheek, drawing him back to the present. He finally focused on Ford’s face. The nerd looked almost as bad as Stan felt, with wild hair and tired, bloodshot eyes and ink stains on one cheek where he must have fallen asleep at his desk. He didn’t smell too great, either. Like old coffee, unwashed human and rusted metal. The nerd must have been feeling <em>really</em> guilty to put himself so out-of-sorts. “Now, are you noticing anything unusual for either your wolf or human form? Your eyes are still somewhat reflective but that could just be a werewolf trait rather than a Warped trait. You feel hot, you may be developing a fever. Stay here, I’ll get a thermometer – or, do you think you can stand?”</p><p>“Why did you fix me?                     </p><p>Ford looked as if Stan had slapped him. <em>Shit. </em>Stan hadn’t even meant to speak, but the words had slipped out.</p><p>Well, gotta commit now. He shuffled back and folded his arms over his chest, trying and failing to meet Stanford’s eyes.</p><p>Ford made a disbelieving sound. “You’re my brother. I couldn’t just <em>leave</em> you like that.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you felt responsible or whatever.” Stan waved his hand dismissively (and clumsily, because coordination with hands was <em>hard.</em> Too many moving parts.) “But did you ever stop to consider that maybe I didn’t <em>want</em> to be fixed?”</p><p>“Why on <em>earth</em> would you want to stay like that?”</p><p>“Ya didn’t even have to put up with me!” Stan shouted, flinging up his arms, and Ford’s mouth snapped shut. His chest bubbled with anger. “You could have just – I dunno, sent me off into the woods or something.” And it would have hurt just as much, sure, but Stan wouldn’t have been around to feel that pain. “I woulda been <em>fine</em>.”</p><p>“You were an <em>animal</em>-”</p><p>“But at least I was <em>happy</em>.” Stan snapped. “When – when yer mind is mush at least you don’t know what you’re missing out on, you don’t <em>know</em> that people don’t want you around, you don’t <em>have</em> to be sad all the time. Maybe I <em>like</em> not bein’ me. Maybe I <em>like</em> not knowing how much of a screw-up I am. Maybe I don’t <em>want </em>to know that I’m JUST ANOTHER EXPERIMENT TO YOU!”</p><p>Ah, shit. Way to go, motormouth.</p><p>Stan huffed and finally met Ford’s eyes, expecting his brother to look angry at his outburst – and maybe, just maybe, a little bit guilty. He hadn’t expected the aghast look he received.</p><p>“<em>Stanley</em>.”                                          </p><p>Stan flinched back, suddenly very unsure of what was going on and what Ford’s horrified reaction meant. “What, what did I do?”</p><p>“Stan, of <em>course</em> you’re more than an experiment. If – why do you think I worked so hard to bring you <em>back</em>?” Ford leaned forward and grabbed Stan’s shoulders again. “If I wanted a lab rat I would have left you in that form, which now that I say it seems quite heartless and this is really besides the point because the point is that I <em>didn’t</em>. You’re my brother, Stanley, whatever grievances we’ve had in the past. And… and if I’ve made you feel that I would think otherwise I apparently haven’t been a very good brother.”</p><p>Stan scanned his twin’s eyes, trying to find some hint of dishonestly – any indication that he was lying. He found nothing. And damn it, now he was even more confused!</p><p>“…what was all that talk, then?” Stan’s voice was rough. Lack of practice probably. He sounded like a chain smoker. “The ‘it’s my life’s work to study anomalies’ and stuff?”</p><p>“It is my life’s work to study anomalies. What does that have to do with this?” Ford frowned, as if confused. Stan spluttered.</p><p>“The – the whole ‘only-not-kicking-me-out-because-of-it’ deal!”</p><p>“I didn’t say that!” Ford protested.</p><p>“Yes you did! You said it right to my face!”</p><p>“All I said was that I wouldn’t be-”</p><p>Ford stopped. Blinked hard. Swallowed. Stan could almost see the cogs whirring in that big old brain of his.</p><p>“…oh. I can see how that would give… the wrong impression.”</p><p>Stan groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to grind out the headache he could feel growing there. “Look, Ford. I just – I’m tired, okay? So you can just say your piece and send me off or study me or whatever. But don’t make me –” He let out a frustrated growl. “Just <em>stop</em> givin’ me false hope, okay? I don’t wanna hear it. I’m just… tired.”</p><p>The last word was low and pathetic. God, what was wrong with him? <em>C’mon Stan, get your act together!</em> He was a fucking werewolf for crying out loud, and he was sitting here acting like a kicked puppy. No wonder Ford was…</p><p>Hugging him again?               </p><p>“Hey, hey hey hey, what’s goin’ on here?” Stan flailed a little in the rib-squeezing grip. His eyes prickled – because he was stupid and Ford was hugging <em>him</em>, Stanley, and Stan hadn’t been deliberately hugged in almost a decade. Tears spilled over without his consent. Thank god Stanford couldn’t see his face.</p><p>“I’m hugging you.” Ford mumbled into his shoulder.</p><p>“Yeah, I – I get that.”</p><p>“It has been brought to my attention that I’m not very good at communicating sentiment through words.” Ford continued. “So, I – I’m hugging you instead.”</p><p>“…okay.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Ford was beginning to realize that he had – eloquently speaking – fucked up.</p><p>When he and Stan were younger they had been thick as thieves. Ford could read his brother’s face as easily as an open book. He’d known when Stan was hurting, or feeling guilty or lovesick or whatever else the knucklehead had seen fit to try and hide. Stan had always been better at reading people but if there was one person Ford understood, it was his brother.</p><p>He didn’t know how to read his brother’s face now. Maybe Stan had learned to hide his feelings better, or Ford had simply forgotten how. Either way, Ford hadn’t been able to tell what Stan had been thinking since the man had barged back into his life. His brother had been hurting and Ford hadn’t even had a clue. And now everything he said seemed to make it <em>worse</em>.</p><p>So Ford didn’t speak. He hugged his brother tight and didn’t let go.</p><p>After another moment Stan hesitantly hugged him back, scarred arms closing loosely around Ford’s back. A shudder ran through him and he sniffed. Then hiccupped. Then sniffed again, as if he were desperately trying to hold back tears and failing.</p><p>Ford weighed his words carefully before speaking. “…I don’t want you to leave.”</p><p>Stan’s fingers dug into his back as the man stiffened.</p><p>“Not because of my research, I mean.” Ford continued. “Honestly, Stan I – I missed you. Through the last nine years. You were such a huge part of my life and suddenly you were <em>gone</em>. I wanted to have my freedom – to go to college and move away from home – but never at the expense of my brother.”</p><p>Ford’s mouth was dry. He swallowed and forged on.</p><p>“Having you back – even in disguise – has been wonderful. I didn’t realize how much I missed you until I got you back. How much I missed my <em>brother.</em> I was so afraid that I’d lost you forever.”</p><p>He forced his voice to not wobble; emotions were well and good but falling apart over that particular scenario could wait. Right now Ford was trying to make a point, he didn’t have time to be distracted.</p><p>“I’ll understand if you never want to see my face again but please trust me, I <em>want</em> to keep in touch. I don’t want you to just disappear again. And I most certainly will <em>not</em> force you to do so. Do you understand?”</p><p>Stan was <em>shaking</em>. Ford rubbed slow circles on his back, desperately hoping that he was helping instead of making things worse. Stan made a soft affirmative sound.</p><p>“…mm hmm.”</p><p>“And I worked so hard on curing you because I <em>care </em>about you. Even though I may not be good at showing it.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>Ford gave a low chuckle. “Plus, I… <em>may</em> have gotten in over my head, just a little bit, with some of my experiments. I’m glad I’ve had you to watch my back.”</p><p>Stan snorted. His voice was barely a mumble through Ford’s coat. “A <em>little</em>? On day two I was saving your ass from a bunch of angry cat-birds.”</p><p>“Griffins are not <em>cat-birds</em>! They are eagle-lion hybrids. And for your information they are generally non-aggressive unless provoked! I just… got a little close, is all.”</p><p>Stan pulled away, chuckling wetly as he scrubbed at his face with a torn-up sleeve. “Yeah, whatever.” He cleared his throat. “Jeez Poindexter, you need to sweep down here. You, uh, got a lot of dust.”</p><p>“…sure. Dust.”</p><p>Stan’s clothes were unsalvageable at this point – torn to ribbons and stained with blood and dirt and other substances Ford couldn’t identify. Even if they ceased to exist when Stan took his wolf form (which would be an incredible thing, Ford <em>had</em> to investigate its limits and the logic behind it) he had been wearing them for <em>far</em> too long.</p><p>Which begged the question…</p><p>“Stan?” Ford ventured. Stan looked across at him warily.</p><p>“…I don’t like that tone.”</p><p>“Why <em>did</em> you stay for so long?” Ford crossed his legs to settle next to his brother, since Stan didn’t seem like he was ready to move. “Not that I haven’t appreciated your company, but…?”</p><p>Stan buried his face in his knees and mumbled something.</p><p>“Stanley, you know I can’t understand you when you mumble.”</p><p>“That’s the point of mumbling.” Stan said a little louder.</p><p>“You’re dodging the question.”</p><p>“Deliberately.”</p><p>“Just answer it!”</p><p>Were shoulder punches still safe? Ford risked it, and was rewarded with another snort of amusement.</p><p>“Ugh, whatever, nerd. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go so I figured – why not stay for a while? Ya know, in case you needed me to bail you out again.”</p><p>“Nowhere else to go?” Ford echoed, mystified. Of course Stan had somewhere to go – he must have had a home somewhere! He even had a car… which, now that Ford came to think about it, seemed rather lived-in. And wasn’t even registered. And there was the fact that his brother was dressed like a hobo. And had a mullet. “…oh.”</p><p>“Just shut it, I don’t need yer pity.” Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah. By the time I got outta that stupid cage I figured ‘hey, might as well stay for a bit’ and you know the rest. Now you got your answer, I’m a homeless bum. Go ahead, yuk it up.”</p><p>“I’m not laughing.”</p><p>Stan squinted at him suspiciously. And… he looked pretty terrible. Ford was pretty sure that <em>he</em> looked like a mess but Stan was twice as bad. His skin was sallow and waxy and his eyes were sunken in, the skin around them dark like a raccoon’s.</p><p>Alright. Priorities. Ford pulled in a deep breath, and let it out.</p><p>He climbed to his feet and offered a hand. “Do you think you can stand up? You should take a shower and make sure there’s no Warped blood on you. I have some clothes that should fit you, and then you’re going to eat a <em>vegetable</em>. Human bodies need vegetables, Stanley.”</p><p>Stan peered at him. “I’m not actually a human, Sixer.”</p><p>“Human or not, vitamins are important. Come on.”</p><p>Stan reached up, and then hesitated. “Are, um – you sure you want me in your house? After all the, uh…”</p><p>“Deceit?” Stan flushed and looked away. “We’ve both made mistakes. And you can more than make it up to me by telling me about werewolves like yourself.”</p><p>“I – I won’t touch anything. Or break anything.” Stan mumbled.</p><p>“Except for my door.”</p><p>Stan flinched. “That wasn’t – I mean–”</p><p>Of, curse it. Ford hurried to reassure him. “No, no, I’m sorry, that was a joke. A poor one.</p><p>“…your jokes are terrible.”</p><p>“My timing could use work.” Ford conceded.</p><p>“We’re such a mess.”</p><p>“That’s an… accurate way to put it, actually. But you’ll just have to get used to it, because you’ll be staying with me for the near future.”</p><p>“I – what?” Stan jerked.</p><p>“You said yourself, you have nowhere else to go. And you’ve certainly been pulling your weight, what with making sure I don’t die. So you’re staying here, for as long as you need. Unless you have any other plans?”</p><p>Stan spluttered.            </p><p>“Just take my hand already.”</p><p>With shiny eyes and a rather red face, Stan did. Ford pulled his brother to his feet.</p><p>And then promptly went down again as Stan’s legs gave out beneath him, sending him into Ford and both of them to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“…you do remember how to walk, right-?”</p><p>“<em>Stupid fuckin’ legs-</em>”</p><p>“That’s alright, take your time.”</p><p>“Shut up!”</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright! This took a little longer to finish than I had planned, mostly because I wasn't sure where to end it! This concludes the main storyline. But who knows, I may write a couple one-shots from this au in the future!</p><p>I just wanted to take a minute to thank everyone who's been reading this story of mine. I've been absolutely blown away by the reception - so many comments and lovely people!!! You guys have made my day more times than I can count. Thank you so much, all of you &lt;3</p><p>As always, I hope you guys enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“FORD!”</p><p>The scientist in question snatched his hand back, just before the carnivorous plant he had been studying snapped at him with a second slime-coated mouth. A <em>second</em> mouth! It was located under the bulbous head’s primary maw, smaller but sharing the larger one’s distinctive jutting spines that seemed to function like teeth – hooked back to prevent prey from getting away. The infant plant was only as long as his forearm but when it was fully-grown the secondary mouth could easily be large enough to pick up small mammals from the forest floor, maybe even large raccoons or the occasional gnome.</p><p>Hmm. They might make for good pest control. Ford studied where the plant’s stem met the forest floor, trying to ascertain how deep the roots ran. If he could get his hands on a pair of good, sturdy gloves for protection he might be able to replant it in a pot and take it back to his lab for further testing. That would certainly be easier than trying to run tests on the fully-grown specimens dotting the forest. How old was this one, anyway? Ford pulled out his tape measure to record its size.</p><p>Stan slapped his hand away when it neared the hissing plant. “Don’t <em>touch</em> it! Didn’t you just say this thing was poisonous?”</p><p>“Venomous, not poisonous.” Ford corrected.</p><p>“You know what I mean.”</p><p>Ford waved away his brother’s concerns. “Don’t worry, it’s only a juvenile. Its venom hasn’t developed enough to do any damage. The worst it’ll do is itch.”</p><p>“I still wouldn’t be touching it if I were you.” Stan said doubtfully, hunkering down next to Ford to get a good look at the creature. The plant hissed and spat at them and generally made a nuisance of itself.</p><p>Ford smirked. “Look Stanley, it’s just as friendly as you are.”</p><p>“Hey!” Stan brandished a finger in Ford’s face. “I’m a friendly guy! Just not to weird-ass plants that try to bite my brother’s hand off.”</p><p>“It’s not like you didn’t try to bite my hand off when I reached for the ice cream yesterday.”</p><p>“Fuck you Ford, I called dibs and you know it.”</p><p>Ford rolled his eyes, reaching for the spade in his pack. He’d missed the easy banter between them. It had been missing during the whole Rebus fiasco, obviously; there was only so much sarcasm a wolf could convey through its eyes alone, and only so much a scientist could babble to his canine friend without it being… just sad. Even once the brothers had reconciled, Stan’s mind restored, Ford had worried that after nearly ten years apart the differences between them were far to great to bridge.</p><p>But in seemingly no time, Ford had fallen back quickly into the habit of trading quips and joking insults, laughs and rolled eyes and body language that sometimes spoke more than words. It felt far more natural than the forced conversations he’d attempted to make during his time in college. Ford had forgotten the comfort of having his brother nearby.</p><p>Of course, an adjustment period was necessary – perhaps made longer by the added factor of Stan readjusting to having a human shape. It was rather concerning, the number of times the man would forget to <em>cook</em> his food and instead tear into it raw and bloody. The first time that had happened Ford had been in the kitchen as well, and he’d stared with popping eyes as Stan nonchalantly sank his teeth into a raw steak.</p><p>Stan had hesitated, chewing slowly and swallowing before speaking in his gravelly voice, not bothering to wipe away a trail of blood rolling down his chin.</p><p>“…okay, yeah, I see what I did there.”</p><p>And of course, they were wildly different people who were bound to have disagreements. It had taken Ford quite some time to convince Stan that while they may argue, he was in no danger of losing his family again. He wouldn’t be sent away, punished or abandoned again. Not while Ford was still breathing.</p><p>The plant’s hiss brought him back to the moment. Ford frowned, considering his plan of action, before settling on the plain approach. They could simply carry the thing home.</p><p>“Can you get out one of the sample bags? I want to bring this specimen to my lab and they should be large enough to hold its roots.”</p><p>Stan rifled through the pack while Ford sized up the agitated plant. He would be able to dig up the roots if the darn thing would stay still! He would have to design some kind of muzzle appropriate for two mouths when they got it back to the house.</p><p>Ford made a lunge for the creature, trapping its stalk against the ground with one hand so it couldn’t bite him as he dug up its roots. The plant snapped at him fruitlessly. Ford quickly loosened up the soil enough to lift the whole thing and settle it roots-first in the awaiting sample bag.</p><p>Stan groused at having to carry the plant all the way home (one hand gripping behind its head, obviously, to stop it from biting). The whining was pretty unfair considering Stan had demanded to carry it so he could keep an eye on the snappish thing, but Ford supposed he could appreciate the intent.</p><p>(…on the other hand, that left Ford to carry the heavy pack. He was beginning to think that this wasn’t a purely altruistic move on Stan’s part.)</p><p>“When I took the job I didn’t realize ‘research assistant’ meant ‘gardener’.”</p><p>“I don’t pay you to whine, Stanley.”</p><p>“You don’t pay me.” Stan countered.</p><p>“Oh – don’t I?” Ford could have sworn he had been. Stan tended to handle the money so Ford had just… assumed that Stan was receiving some of it. He frowned. “Why don’t I pay you?”</p><p>“’Cause I live in your house? That’s kinda payment enough.”</p><p>“No it’s not!”</p><p>“It was when you thought I was a wolf.”</p><p>Ford spluttered. “That – that’s because you were a <em>wolf</em>. Wolves don’t need to be <em>paid</em> to act as research assistants-”</p><p>“Oh, are you saying wolves don’t deserve to be paid equal wages?” Stan shook his head in mock disappointment. “Gosh, Ford. My own <em>brother</em>-”</p><p>“Oh, shut up! You know what I mean!”</p><p>Stan snickered. He only laughed harder when Ford punched him lightly in the shoulder, careful not to jostle the creature in his grasp.</p><p>Ford glanced at his watch, taking note of the time. At this pace they would reach home well before dark. Maybe they should take a detour to check on the size-altering crystals? Ford had covered the Warped crystal with a tarp to prevent the light reaching it, but he really should check that the covering was still in place after the blustering winds that had recently swept through. He didn’t want any unsuspecting forest life to wander into its beam.</p><p>Then again, that could wait for another day, and they had a carnivorous plant to re-house.</p><p>“…I really do need to pay you, though.” Ford muttered as they walked.</p><p>“You really don’t.” Stan shrugged. “I’m not doing anything useful anyway.”</p><p>The nonchalance with which he spoke made Ford want to sigh. Stan never acknowledged his own value or input! Ford wanted to shove it down his throat and force his brother to acknowledge that he was <em>important</em>, goddammit!</p><p>For the moment, he settled on arguing his point.</p><p>“Shopping for food is useful; plus, the people in town know you better than me and I’ve been living here for years, so you’re basically handling public appearance. And collecting data from my monitors is useful.”</p><p>“That’s just walking and taking readings.” Stan argued right back. “A monkey could do that data-collection stuff.”</p><p>“Babysitting Tate while Fiddleford and I are busy is useful.”</p><p>“The kid’s easy, he just wants to spend time with a dog all day.”</p><p>“Defending the house from griffins is useful.” Especially since they seemed to have it out for the Pines twins and would come by every so often with claws and beaks bared.</p><p>“You woulda just found a better way to keep ‘em away.”</p><p>Ford gritted his teeth. “You handle the money and pay the bills.”</p><p>“It’s your grant money, I just budget it.”</p><p>“Exactly! That is exactly what I should pay you for!” Ford flung up his arms in exasperation. Stan merely shrugged, and – smirked? He was <em>enjoying</em> Ford’s misery! “Ugh, whatever.”</p><p>Stan continued to look smug. Ford silently resolved to start paying him, even if he had to sneak the money into his brother’s bank account. Or just leave some around the house. Apparently Stan was too proud to accept payment but the guy never passed up an opportunity to take it if it was there.</p><p>“…anyway, about the whole money thing, I was thinking.” Stan mumbled, a little more subdued. Ford glanced across.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Eh – well, y’know how there are so many cool things around here? If Pa’d let us come, we woulda loved it here when we were kids.”</p><p>Ford imagined himself as a child – bright-eyed and eager to learn, marveling at everything around him – and was inclined to agree.</p><p>“And just yesterday you were sayin’ about how no one appreciates this stuff. Really, I’m kinda surprised no one’s made something of this place before, snatched it up for a tourist attraction. I was thinking that it would be pretty cool to give… tours or something?”</p><p>Ford opened his mouth but his brother was already rushing ahead, a nervous scowl affixed to his face.</p><p>“It’s all good if you don’t want me to – probably something about the scientific integrity of the place or whatever – but, it’s kinda something I’m good at. Tours, selling stuff, talking to people, that stuff. A-And I know you love teaching people about things, so if you wanted to help? Like, write up information sheets or – or do classes or whatever. Obviously I’d be spinning some yarns, that’s the fun of these places, but I know people would love to see some of the weird stuff here and actually learn about it too, so I dunno, I think it would be cool?”</p><p>All of this was said rather quickly, with few breaths taken in between, so when Stan finally ran out of things to say he took a few heavy breaths. Ford blinked and took a few moments to process this.</p><p>“Stan, are you asking my permission to open a tourist trap?”</p><p>The werewolf cringed, grip tightening fractionally around the uselessly-wriggling plant creature. “No, ‘course not. I’m just… seein’ if you’d be open to the idea.”</p><p>“Well…” Ford adjusted the straps of his pack. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with my research, I think it’s quite an interesting prospect. It would be nice to be able to share some of the things I’ve learned. If you think you can pull it off I believe you. You don’t need my permission, of course, but you certainly have my support.”</p><p>“Wait, <em>really</em>?”</p><p>Ford laughed as his brother perked up. That was another thing he’d had to adjust to since their reunion – canines tended to express themselves heavily through body language and Stan had apparently picked up that trait. He had no tail at the moment but from the straight posture and slight vibrating, Ford imagined it would be wagging.</p><p>“’Cause I’ve got so many ideas.” Stanley gushed. “I was thinking I could get a place set up, probably in the woods closer to town – maybe contract that lumberjack guy you talked about to built it? Anyways, I’d fill it with attractions, some of the cool shit that lives around here. Like, you know that weird-ass bird we saw the other day, the one you said we shouldn’t bother to look into?”</p><p>“Having a second head is a fairly common mutation. I’ve studied several animals with that phenotype in my time here.”</p><p>“People eat that stuff up, Ford! And I could do tours around some of the harmless places – and charge a pretty penny for it too. You know how many shmucks are happy to get ripped off by dodgy fake tourist attractions? And this one would be <em>real</em>! I’d have a source of income, and you’d have somewhere to put the stuff you’ve finished researching, and people to teach if you want to. Plus this crummy town could use some tourists to give business a boost.”</p><p>Wow. Stan had evidently thought this whole thing out – and the excitement was contagious. Ford wondered if this was how his brother felt, when he himself became giddy about a new finding or breakthrough. Stan was grinning like a <em>kid</em>.</p><p>Ford laughed and elbowed him playfully. “It’s a sound plan. And it’s nice to see you’re putting aside your history with Dan. You growled at him last time we came across him – you weren’t yourself then, of course.”</p><p>Stan shot him a weird look. “Who?”</p><p>“Dan. The lumberjack.” Stan continued to look confused. “Matilda’s boyfriend?”</p><p>All at once the werewolf’s eyes widened. “<em>The shovel guy</em>.”</p><p>“Er – shovel?”</p><p>“He hit me with a shovel.”                                                   </p><p>“Oh.” Ford had almost forgotten the circumstances of their meeting, with himself rescuing Stan from being beaten to death. Ah – with what he knew now, the situation seemed a lot more dire. He strongly resisted the urge to grab up a shovel and see how Boyish Dan like being smacked into the ground.</p><p>Obviously Dan didn’t know it was a person he had assaulted, not a wolf, but still. It would make Ford feel better.</p><p>When no words came to him, Ford said the first thing on his mind. “Didn’t you try to eat his mother’s dog?”</p><p>“Dog? Fuckin’ thing was more of a bug than a dog. I was starving anyway, gimme a break!”</p><p>“I’m not judging. Anyway, I’ve seen you try to eat so many things-”</p><p>“Can it, Poindexter.”</p><p>Ford began to count on his fingers. “Squirrels, gnomes, the mayor’s hairpiece, our father, my kitchen cupboard, a whole watermelon for some reason-”</p><p>“I was outta my mind for half of those!”</p><p>“My phone, the multibear somehow, several lemons – why you kept coming back to them after knowing you hated them remains a mystery to me–”</p><p>They arrived back at the house before Ford could continue his list.</p><p>“We should get this thing planted before it dies or somethin’.” Stan shuffled the plant around in his arms to hold it more comfortably, ignoring its hiss of displeasure. “Where do you want it?”</p><p>“The porch should be fine. I don’t know how much energy it gets from its prey as opposed to the sun ­– it might need sunlight to live.”</p><p>“Right. You got a pot around? I can get Chompy here planted while you find something to stop it biting anyone who gets close.”</p><p>“’Chompy’? You named the plant?”</p><p>“You were too slow.”</p><p>Well, Ford couldn’t argue with that logic. He’d just have to be faster with the next creature they came across. They had a lifetime, after all, to squabble about names – among other things.</p><p> </p><p>(For example, whether Ford was terrible for pretending to toss Stan the car keys but hiding them behind his back instead. It took Stan an embarrassingly long time to realize and once he did, Ford could barely see the withering glare he received through his snickering.)</p><p>(That evening, in revenge, Stan fell asleep on the couch lying across several of Ford’s books. Upon attempts to remove him Stan simply shifted into a wolf and thus became heavier and harder to move.)</p><p>(But these are stories for another time.)</p>
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